With the help of a Spartan
by Galahad32687
Summary: BSGHALO crossover. When the colonials mount their defense of the Algae planet, defeat is averted when a powerful, mysterious warrior comes to the aid of the beleagured colonial troops. The colonials find new allies, new enemies, and a clear road to Earth.
1. Chapter 1: Battle in the Canyon

Major Lee Adama took a deep breath, his hands clasped tightly upon his rifle, attempting to put aside the feelings that distracted him. He tried to bring his focus to the canyon valley in front of him.

In the first place, Lee was aware of the thin line of armed men and women around him. Hidden amongst the brush, the people bridged the canyon valley. Everyone bore a weapon trained down the valley, yet Lee knew far too many of his companions bore weapons for the first time of their lives. He could only trust that the leadership and direction of the man just a few feet to his right, Anders, the heroic resistance fighter and acting second-in-command, would grant some resolve to the civilians-turned-warriors comprising the bulk of the force. Never one to pray, Lee simply pleaded in his mind. _Don't break, don't break, stand firm, please don't break._

Other things bothered him: the hot sun, the dust, the dry rocky soil. Dirt and sweat covered his body. Lee knew he stank, felt the grime hardening on his skin. Of course a soldier should expect this sort of situation, but Lee could not remember the last time he endured the grit of ground warfare. He recalled that when in his viper, he felt that nothing ever oppressed him. The air group gave Lee the callsign Apollo for a reason. Like the god, Lee's shots flew straight and true, and he soared through space and sky with effortless grace. But now cast out of the heavens, down onto the arid Algae planet, the god-among-Viper-pilots found himself feeling decisively less than mortal. Lee felt like a worm.

The anxiety of the situation, and the harsh conditions, contributed to the feelings of helplessness. But thinking about Kara made Lee feel the most helpless. _Please,_ again he pleaded to nothing in particular, _don't let Kara be dead. Please let her be ok. Oh please, let Dee get to Kara in time._

Lee understood the irony of sending his wife to save his accomplice in adultery. But Dee had been the only one available, the only one not deployed to the vital line of defense. And Kara was too important to Lee, not to mention her husband Anders, to risk sacrificing. So Lee ordered Dee to risk her life and get to Kara by sneaking around the enemy.

_The enemy,_ thought Lee, _look to the enemy, to the coming battle._ A few more deep breaths and Major Lee Adama regained his composure.

The enemy, an unknown number of Cylon Centurions, was somewhere down the valley, advancing up towards the prize: the Temple. Before the Cylons managed to jam all wireless contact with the planet surface, the Admiral ordered Chief Tyrol to decipher the purpose of the Temple and its contents as quickly as possible. And the Admiral ordered Lee, his own son, to defend Tyrol. As long as possible.

Lee looked to his right and found Anders peering down the valley through binoculars. The attention that the man displayed granted Lee some relief. Anders clearly had put aside any thought of making a mad dash into enemy territory to find his wife. All the more reason Lee could feel less guilty about sending Dee for the rescue.

"Sam, what do you see?" Lee whispered.

"Nothing," replied the guerrilla just as quietly, "For a bunch of fraking chromejobs, they're impossible to see from this position. Taking a look from higher ground might solve our problem."

"They're too close for you too move; they'll likely be upon us in minutes. Can't tell someone else to do it, I'm the only one with a wireless out here. Gotta stay in contact with the Chief."

Anders snorted with a hint of contempt. His behavior did not surprise Lee. Anders used to give orders, now he needed to take them. A difficult adjustment for anyone, but a particularly uncomfortable one for Anders. After all, his new commander had made him a cuckold.

"So what?" Anders whispered again, this time irritated, "We just sit here and wait till the toasters are forcing their guns down our throats?"

"They can't take us by surprise. Dee let us know they are coming. Before she left for her mission she did say the toasters were within two miles of our position. They're not far, we're ready."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Lee. Just hope that your wife can get back my wife. Otherwise, if the toasters don't hurt you, I certainly will."

Lee clenched his teeth and swallowed his anger, no more time left for arguing. Surely there had been enough arguing exchanged today. Both Anders and Dee had confronted him over the relationship with Kara. In his mind, Lee agreed that they had the right to feel angry.

The whole situation didn't seem fair as Lee turned it over in his mind. Kara and he would frak, then she would fly away in a raptor while he would stay behind, forced to deal with the mounting tensions with Anders and Dee. But the circumstances did not anger Lee so much. They lead to frustrations, but he dealt with them. He would do anything for Kara, and he knew it. Lee laughed to himself. _Frak fair_, Lee thought, _Fair would have meant that from the start Kara and I would be…"_

The rattling din of machine gun fire cut his thought short. Again, Lee brought all his senses back to the valley before him. He could vaguely see the glint of metal through the thicketed brush; hear the whiz of bullets around him. The Centurions advanced, their suppressive fire forcing Lee and his force to stay down. A quick glance up and down the line allowed Lee to note the number of fallen so far.

_Not too bad_, thought Lee, _If they can't do much more than this, we can hold this position for awhile. Hell, if they don't bring up any mortars, we could hold this position until nightfall._

Anders clenched a remote switch in his fist. A line of explosions erupted across the valley floor before them, accompanied by the scream of metal bodies tearing to shreds. The Centurion fire slackened as the machines attempted to recover their cohesion. Opportunity presented itself.

"Return fire!" shouted Lee.

The line of defenders released a storm of bullets upon the wild growth before them. Lee heard a few more metal bodies clang into the dirt, twisted shells never to rise again.

_Gods damn you for shooting down_ _Kara, you fraking toasters_, Lee's blood pumped a battle rage through his body.

"Frakin' bastards wandered into a shooting gallery this time Lee!" yelled Anders.

Anders' welcome roar paled in comparison to the unwelcome boom of the ordnance that suddenly rained down upon Lee's force. Lee could hear screams as the shells struck men and women. He glanced about, trying to discern the origin of the attack.

_The canyon ridges. The Heavy Raiders must have dropped mortar crews up there. They used the advance of the chromejobs to force us into giving away our position. We can't even retreat now, they have us pinned. Frak, should have covered those heights even with the shortage of manpower. Frak._

It did not matter that Lee anticipated the Cylon's mortar attack during deployment, what mattered was that his force simply could not have hoped to defend both the canyon passage and the high ground considering the lack of numerical strength. If he had put all his men up on the high ground, one or two of the Centurions would have likely survived well enough to make for the Temple and easily butcher Tyrol's lightly armed team. So Lee had deployed everyone to the valley, hoping that the Cylons would somehow forget the heights, hoping to gain time for Tyrol by sacrificing the high ground. Now he was sacrificing lives too. Lee could hear Anders growling. Whether the man suffered from a wound or frustration, Lee could only guess.

As he clung to the dirt beneath the dry brush, Lee contemplated calling Tyrol, to demand that the Chief send some of his people to dislodge the mortar crews. Something had to be done before the Centurions in the valley reformed their assault. Once that happened, the Cylons could just rush Lee's force and cut them down in a melee.

_Lords of Kobol, don't let me die today. Not today._ Lee finally began praying. _Don't let me die and leave Kara. Kara, my…_

The unmistakable report of a sniper rifle echoed across the valley. Once, twice, and then the mortars fell silent. Someone had destroyed the Cylon mortar crews.

The relief that Lee felt quickly subsided as another noise came into his hearing. He heard the rapid, rhythmic clank of metal.

Lee glanced to his right and saw a livid Anders yanking back the trigger of his machine gun.

"Lee, the Cylons!"

A hulking metal Centurion leaped over the bank of earth that separated Lee from Anders. Lee saw the war machine turn to face him. Time seemed to slow. Lee could not breathe, could not bring his gun around. As he gazed into the blazing red eye of the machine, the Centurion drew back its left arm. Lee prepared himself for the rake of the claws that would surely eviscerate him.

The strike did not come. The Centurion suddenly buckled as a shining blade pierced its torso. Then, like a rag doll tossed aside by a child, the machine rose up and flew to the side, out of Lee's vision.

Something new stepped forward to take the place of the Cylon. Lee gasped at the sight. He looked upon what he guessed could only be a full suit of body armor. The form resembled that of a man, save the fact that it towered over even the tallest men Lee could remember. He saw no face, only a reflective visor embedded in a dull, metallic green helmet. In one hand, the immense figure clutched the shining blade that only a moment ago impaled the Centurion. Lee observed the other hand rising up; clasping what looked like a grenade.

_What kind of warrior…?_

The warrior looked passed Lee, out towards the enemy. In a deep graveled voice that betrayed no emotion, only masculinity, the warrior spoke a command.

"Cover me."

The warrior heaved his grenade. Then, with blade in hand, he charged past Lee to meet the advancing foe.


	2. Chapter 2: Deep in the Temple

Chief Galen Tyrol knelt before a beautiful mural, tracing the hieroglyphs with his hands. He searched for a disguised switch, a hidden meaning, anything as long as it gave answers. He heard the footsteps of his people rushing about behind him, packing up gear or continuing the search for the Temple's secrets.

For a brief moment, Tyrol thought about Major Adama and the battle raging outside. Many hours had passed since the last wireless transmission from the Major. The time spent within the Temple sanctuary had inspired a new level of piety in Tyrol, and he considered praying for the lives of the embattled troops.

"Lords, watch over us this day and safeguard the lives of our soldiers from those that would do us harm," Tyrol whispered before returning to his work.

His eyes locked onto the colorful mandala on the wall just above his head. The image attracted Tyrol, yet he could not fathom the reason. He recalled checking the madala perhaps ten times, never finding anything important.

He sense a presence behind him, heard a voice. Cally's voice.

"Galen."

Tyrol turned. His wife's back was to him, her vision locked on the door to the Temple sanctuary.

"Galen, we have company."

Tyrol rose and looked over Cally's shoulder. He gasped in horror three figures advanced out of the dark passage with guns drawn. First came a pair of Cylons, one D'Anna Biers, another Brother Cavil. And last came…Gaius Baltar, smartly dressed with an arrogant smirk upon his face. The three intruders took Tyrol and his entire team by surprise; no one had a weapon at hand.

Baltar looked about, and his smirk widened into a grin. Tyrol forced himself to maintain a calm composure and not growl out his defiance as the little man began to speak.

"Thank you all very much. Your cooperation is much appreciated." Baltar looked over to the Biers copy, which returned his gaze, "We'll be taking over now."

A thunderous roar and a brilliant flash of light suddenly overwhelmed Tyrol. He stumbled, but he reached a hand out for the central column. Finding it, Tyrol steadied himself and tried to discern the situation. He could hear screams of shock coming from every direction. Bright light cascaded into the Temple from openings in the ceiling high above. Tyrol couldn't see any of his people, save a stunned Cally crouching on the floor nearby. But Tyrol could see Baltar and the Cylons reeling about, trying to regain their senses and their balance.

_Time to take some action_, Chief Tyrol thought.

Tyrol advanced, grabbed Cally, and pulled her behind him. Then he drew his sidearm, fell to a knee, and started shooting.

His first few shots missed. The Cylons returned fire, but blindness from the flash disrupted their aim. Tyrol dropped to the ground and continued firing. The Cavil sank to the ground first, its weapon hand pierced through by one of Tyrol's bullets. The Cylon clutched its bloody member in pain. The Biers model took a bullet to the head and flopped backwards.

Tyrol searched for Baltar, but realized that the treacherous little scum had abandoned his Cylon companions. As Tyrol picked himself up from the ground and his vision got better, he picked up a movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled and saw Baltar, weaponless and running for dear life towards the other side of the Temple.

"Baltar!" Tyrol raised his gun, but Baltar disappeared behind the central column.

Tyrol picked his way through his stunned people and made his way around the column. With his vision almost right again, Tyrol could just make out the figure of the ex-President, standing in the beam of a brilliant ray of light.

Tyrol raised his sidearm, aimed for Baltar's knee to inflict a disabling blow. He pulled the trigger. The gun fired.

But where Baltar had been standing there was now nothing.

Tyrol stared through the light, blinked and shook his head, trying to wear off the last of the shock. Yet he could not find Baltar.

The ray of light vanished. Tyrol ran up to the spot where he though he had seen Gaius Baltar. He stopped and looked down on the floor. Nothing, save another colorful mandala carved into the Temple floor.

_He disappeared...how?_

Tyrol moved on, began looking to his people. Most had regained their sense by now. Tyrol knew that the nova of the Algae planet's sun caused all the light and noise. He decided to make evacuation the priority. Save the people, forget the mission. He ordered his team to finish packing all the excavation materials. He assigned a few men to bandage and bind the wounded Cavil, which offered little resistance.

Tyrol allowed himself to gaze at the mandala on the central column once more. He liked the bright colors, the wavy lines that conveyed a sense of force. Suddenly, he had a thought.

_Maybe_…

He chanced a glance straight up through the skylights, and beheld the awesome sight of the nova. He looked back at the mandala, and then he knew. Tyrol sighed. The answer to the riddle of the Temple of Five seemed so simple in hindsight.

Cally approached him.

"Chief, the Major's on the wireless. The Admiral says the Cylon fleet has jumped away."

Cally waited for a response, but her husband said nothing. She proceeded with her report.

"Raptors are coming down for immediate evac. We only have a few hours before this entire system goes up with the nova. Everyone's ready to go. Chief, what are your orders?"

Tyrol only half heard her. He continued looking at the mandala, smiling.

"Galen, what the frak!? Did you hear me?"

Tyrol came out of his trance.

"Yeah, sorry Cally. Let's move out. The Admiral and the President are gonna like what I have to tell them."


	3. Chapter 3: At the Base Camp

Samuel Anders leaned against a crate of refined algae in the midst of the base camp. All around him he could see people rushing about, stacking supplies up near the landing pad. The Cylon jamming had been lifted only a short time ago and Lee had received orders from the Admiral to begin evacuating the planet surface with all possible speed. Anders understood the urgency of the situation; despite the successful defense of the Temple and the sudden departure of the Cylon fleet, the nova of the Algae planet's sun presented a new danger. Only a few hours remained before the expansion of the star would incinerate the planet. Raptors were on the way down to the base camp to pick up the away teams and the remaining supplies. Yet Anders found himself captivated by the beauty of the nova, and he allowed himself to dwell on the events of the recent battle.

"Hey!" Lee's voice snapped Anders back to reality, "You gonna move that crate?"

"It's heavy Lee, mind giving me a hand?"

Lee stepped to the other end of the box, and the men quickly began moving the cargo over to the landing pads.

"I just got off the wireless with Dee," Lee said, "She found Kara and is flying her bird back to Galactica. Kara's hurt but alive, she'll make it."

"Oh, wonderful, seems like Dee's got bigger balls than you Lee. You married well, thanks again for sending your wife out to rescue mine. Now I won't have to bust my knuckles on you." Anders knew his diatribe came off as a little insubordinate, but he knew that he deserved his say. A man who sent his own wife into danger did not deserve Kara's love.

An awkward silence hung between the pair for a few moments.

"The raptors should be here any minute now," Lee finally spoke, more to himself than to Anders.

"I'm honestly not thinking about that much right now Lee," Anders chose to reply.

"Yeah, well?"

_At least he's man enough to take the punishment._ Anders thought. _Kara is safe. Perhaps I can let up a bit now. Change the subject._

"Here's something," Anders said, "Aren't you still going over that little battle we just got out of?"

The men dropped the crate in the appropriate spot and proceeded back to the camp in search of more supplies.

"What about the battle, Sam?"

"Are you honestly asking me that question?"

"Plenty happened back there Sam. Where would you like to start?"

"How about with the Chief?"

"Tyrol's fine, Sam. He'll be here soon."

"Lee, I didn't mean our Chief. I meant the other Chief."

Anders motioned to a high outcrop of rock just outside the campground. The subject of the discussion stood at the peak of the rise, armed with an enormous sniper rifle, surveying the land for any rogue Centurions.

"I'm not sure what to think of him Sam," Lee grunted as he lifted a case of medicine, "He didn't even give me his name. First time I asked him who he was, he just said 'Chief.' The second time I asked him, he didn't even respond. He just stared at me a moment, then strode off. If you really need to know, I'd say he's a lot like my father before all this started; cold, reserved, a military machine through and through."

As Anders hoisted up a couple coils of rope, he could sense distrust, almost spite, in Lee's voice. This reaction puzzled Anders, considering what the Chief accomplished during the fighting.

"Lee, he single-handedly killed more than dozen centurions. He saved our lives and helped us accomplish our mission. And that's all you can say about this man?"

"Sam, we don't know if he's human."

"Well, he's not a Cylon." The pair set down their gear and heard the sonic boom of the raptors entering the atmosphere. The gathering of supplies continued.

"Sam, you don't know that. They lie. They lie all the time. Do you really think it's that unthinkable for one Cylon to kill another in order to gain our trust?"

"He killed so many of them, so easily. If he was on their side, he could have just as easily slaughtered us all while we were focusing on the chromejobs. He's obviously an ally."

Lee turned to Anders, his face gravely serious, his voice close to cracking with anger. Lee stared Anders directly in the eyes.

"Look, Sam, you weren't around, so I don't expect you to understand, but I know not to trust toasters. And I've learned that they will always try to deceive you. One of those things blew up an entire basestar just for a chance to murder my father. I was there, I tried to stop the bleeding with my own hands. They're capable of anything Sam."

Anders could not look at Lee. He looked at the Chief, shook his head, and laughed to himself. He could not believe Lee.

_So this is the man Kara chose over me. Lee Adama, the poster boy for compassion, righteousness, and arrogance._

"I see what you mean," Anders turned back to Lee, "I guess all those years on Caprica, on New Caprica, those years just can't compare to what you've experienced. Well frak, Lee, thanks for that little realization."

Lee's head sank a little, realizing his poor choice of words, as Anders proceeded to trudge past him. But Anders did not feel quite finished. He stopped, looked over his shoulder back at the unmoving Lee, who continued to stare at the ground.

"You can't deny that the Admiral will take an interest in how we survived the mess down here. You'd have to tell him about the Chief eventually, and you know that your father would take a vested interest in seeing him. Like it or not Lee, you have to bring the Chief back to Galactica with us."

The raptors arrived and began the touch down procedures. Lee raised his head and looked past them, off towards the giant figure of the Chief. Anders, satisfied with the discussion, returned to his task of gathering the supplies.


	4. Chapter 4: The Chief Makes a Deal

_Chief, we may only have one chance. I hope they listen. Getting left behind doesn't look good at all._

Master Chief Spartan 117 listened to his AI, Cortana, as he strode towards the group of spacecraft referred to as Raptors. He didn't feel particularly fond of the occupants. He had saved all their lives, guarded their backs, yet now they seemed prepared to leave him. He understood their position, for it seemed that they had no idea who or what he was. For all they knew, he could very well be an enemy. Still, their total lack of gratitude and overwhelming paranoia irritated him. These people would be unnecessarily difficult to work with, and that made the business of saving humanity all the more difficult.

_I know how you feel Chief, but these people are the only way out of here. We don't have a choice, we have to trust them. They seem human enough anyway, although they don't seem like any kind of UNSC personnel that I am familiar with._

The Chief agreed with Cortana. The strangers in the Raptors represented their only way home, their only way to return to Earth and warn the high command about the Halo. The only way to honor the memory of Captain Keyes. He and Cortana could afford some discretion in divulging whatever knowledge the strangers did not know, but ultimately they needed to take a leap of faith into a foreign, yet human, society.

The Chief noticed a familiar face preparing to climb into a nearby Raptor. He recognized the commanding officer of all the other people on the planet surface, a major by the name of Lee Adama. The Chief recalled the awe and shock in the major's face when he first showed himself, when he sliced threw an attacking enemy with the energy sword.

The Chief could think of no one else to approach, so he moved towards the major. Adama saw him coming and stiffened, meeting the Chief's gaze with an outward coolness. Yet the Chief knew that beneath the officer's exterior stirred feelings of uncertainty.

The Chief halted a few feet from the major, and let his rifle sink into an unthreatening pose. His left hand fell to his side.

"Are you Major Adama?" the Chief inquired.

The officer blinked, and took a slight breath before responding.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"I listen well."

The Chief paused.

"I don't suppose you could give me a ride. I'd rather not be left here."

The major did not move. The Chief raised his left hand, motioning to Adama.

"I request your help."

Major Adama bit his lip a little, and blinked again. Behind him, people continued to pile into the Raptor.

"And what sort of help is needed?"

"I saved your lives. Perhaps you could consider returning the favor and get me to the high command."

"The Admiral will judge whether or not you are to be brought off this rock."

Oddly, Adama did not understand. The Chief rephrased his statement.

"I'm not talking about your commander, Major. I'm talking about _the_ high command. I'm talking about you getting me back to Earth."

The look of abject shock that flashed onto Major Adama's face made no sense to either the Chief or Cortana.

_Ok, I can understand these people being unaffiliated with UNSC. There are private militaries and citizen militias all over the human dominion. But not knowing about Earth? Everyone…knows about Earth. Right?_

"Surprised Major?"

"Get you back to Earth? Do you mean to say…you know where it is?"

"Yyyyyes," the Chief stared at the Major from below the rim of his helmet visor.

Major Adama pointed to the Raptor behind him.

"Get the frak in."

"Hold on, slow down. I weigh half a ton. You sure you can take off with me _and_ all those people?"

Adama pointed to another Raptor.

"In that one. Throw out whatever you need to. For frak's sake be quick about it. The nova's getting closer."

The Chief ran over to the Raptor indicated and stepped inside. The two officers within stared at him as he easily cast a crate out the hatch with one hand. It had taken two men to move the crate in question, but the Chief threw it like a small stone.

The Chief finished emptying the hold, and then turned to face the two officers.

"Let's go."

The men turned to their stations, clearly a little shaken up.

"Frak me," whispered the pilot under his breath.

Cortana spoke to the Chief.

_Ok, before this day is over, someone is gonna tell me what "frak" means._


	5. Chapter 5: The CIC and a Nova

The Galactica's CIC bustled with activity. Lieutenant Felix Gaeta was part of it. He hunched over a table with a group of specialists, all of them frantically going over jump calculations. The rest of the fleet had jumped away from the Algae planet many hours ago. That space of time allowed a great deal of cosmic drift to occur, and Gaeta knew from experience that unless his team properly compensated for the change the Galactica would not jump to the fleet's current location. In the worse case scenario, mistakes on the jump calculations would send the ship jumping straight into the core of a sun. The thought of painful incineration always gave the Lieutenant a small chill up his spine.

Finally he and the specialist finished going over the calculations. Gaeta dismissed the specialists. Then, with the data in hand, he headed down into the heart of the CIC to make his report to the old man.

In the moment Gaeta took to approach the Admiral's side, the lieutenant could not help but marvel at the calm, controlled character of his commander. All the work going on in the CIC did not faze the old man in the slightest. He stood with his hands on his hips, carefully watching the progress of the raptors on DRADIS monitor. Yet Gaeta knew the old man was not oblivious to his surroundings. Adama maintained an uncanny awareness of his surrounding. He recognized Gaeta's presence without even looking down from the monitor.

"Report Lieutenant."

"Sir, jump calculations are up and ready, sir."

"Then prepare to return us to the fleet."

"Yes sir!"

Gaeta jogged up to the FTL console and began inputting the coordinate adjustments. The work came to Gaeta's fingers naturally. Gaeta lost count of the number of jumps he calculated and executed long ago, though he guessed that Galactica completed its 1000th jump a year ago. While Gaeta went about his task, his keen ears picked up conversation coming from the direction of the command station.

"Evac's 'bout done," Colonel Tigh's gruff voice ground into Gaeta's ears, "The last raptor touched off 30 seconds ago. They're lagging though, behind schedule about two minutes."

"They'll make it. Our pilots know when to kick in the burn," the Admiral responded. His voice, despite its husky inflection, felt far more comforting than the XO's.

Gaeta finished his work at the FTL console. He began his round about the CIC, spot checking every workstation, making sure nothing was out of order. As he approached navigation, he glanced towards the center of the room. Opposite the old man stood the one-eyed Colonel Tigh, leaning slightly on the command workstation and resting his hands on the table surface. Always a dark man by nature, experience and the loss of an eye on New Caprica made Colonel Tigh even darker. Gaeta could not determine whether the Colonel still secretly blamed him for suffering endured in the Cylon prisons. The lieutenant never could perceive the thoughts or emotions of his XO, for Saul Tigh wore his grim face like part of his officer's uniform.

0000000000

Colonel Saul Tigh stared across the command station at his old friend Admiral Bill Adama. The Admiral did not return the gaze of his second in command, but continued to carefully watch the DRADIS monitor.

Tigh shifted a little and looked down at the table for a moment of thought. Then he turned his head back to Adama.

"Admiral, there's something you should know."

"I'm listening Colonel," Adama did not break eye contact with the DRADIS.

Tigh shifted again, uneasy with the information he began to report.

"Our raptors are bringing up a couple new passengers."

At that moment, Tigh received Adama's undivided attention. The Admiral lower his head and faced his XO. Overall Adama appeared completely at ease with the new information. But the Admiral definitely harbored an interest in learning more. Tigh could tell; Adama was not blinking.

"What kind of passengers, Colonel?"

Tigh took a deep breath before speaking,

"One's a Cylon, a Cavil. Tyrol picked it up in the Temple. It's damaged, but still functioning. We could interrogate it."

"Very good. What about our second passenger?"

Tigh had to look away from Adama for a moment and consider his words.

"You're not going to believe this," Tigh sighed. "I just spoke with Apollo on the wireless. He told me something about the engagement with the Centurions."

"Go on, Colonel."

"Apparently the battle wasn't going our way down there. Lee says his force would have been looking at annihilation, had not someone interfered."

"I'm guessing this someone is our second passenger. Who is he?"

"No idea. Can't even be sure if he's a cylon. He's completely different from anything we've encountered. Apollo says he answers to the rank Chief"

"Alright. What exactly did he do that saved our people?"

Tigh leaned a little further over the table and lowered his voice.

"According to Apollo, this Chief took down more than a dozen Centurions, most of them in hand to hand combat."

The Admiral barely reacted to the numbers. He simply removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

"Hand to hand combat with a Cylon Centurion," the Admiral replied as he replaced his glasses, "I haven't heard of that since the first Cylon war. The new models cut up whatever gets near them in the blink of an eye. Do you believe this, Colonel?"

"I fought the old Centurions hand to hand myself. I was one of the lucky ones. You'll recall that merely surviving close combat with one of those old tin cans was rare in itself."

"I remember. Question remains, if we believe Apollo's account, how did the Chief take down more than a platoon of shiny new Centurions?"

"Apollo mentioned that the Chief was well equipped: sniper rifle, grenades, some kind of sword."

Adama's brow furrowed, "A sword?"

"I said before you wouldn't believe it," Tigh continued, "Apollo also said that this Chief is wearing what looks like a full suit of body armor. Can't even see a face through the visor. And apparently the stuff is really heavy, somewhere around half a ton. Don't ask me how someone can move in that much gear. To get him off the planet, Apollo had to jettison a bulk of cargo and give the Chief his own personal raptor."

"Which begs the question; why did Apollo sacrifice a raptor and hold of supplies to bring the Chief to us?" Adama let his head sink a little, entering a contemplative state.

"Here's the real bombshell."

At that point Colonel Tigh abandoned military decorum, coming around the command workstation so that he could whisper his next words to his old friend.

"Bill, Lee says that the Chief…he knows the way to Earth."

Bill's gaze whipped up to meet that of his friend's. It always amazed Saul that Bill dominated his reactions almost completely. Still, for a moment Saul could clearly see the emotion in Bill's eyes: shock, disbelief.

Then the reserved mask of the Admiral returned, as did the decorum of the XO.

"Admiral, what do we do?"

Adama looked back at the DRADIS monitor. The raptors were but a short distance from Galactica, they would be docking within seconds. Indeed, the pilots had kicked in the burn.

"Colonel, I want you to send a guard of four marines down to intercept the Chief. Have them explain they're an escort."

Adama turned to his XO again.

"Have the marines take our guest to Conference Room C."

"A Conference Room? Why not a holding cell? You trust him?"

"We can't insult the Chief by locking him up and taking away his weapons. He'll probably figure out that we mean to keep him under guard. But he did save our people, including my son. I think we should return the gesture of goodwill. That will build trust."

Tigh nodded in assent, though not necessarily in support. The Admiral had a tendency for acting on hunches, for listening to those without proven loyalties. Tigh knew that Adama tended to be right in such matters, yet it did not hurt to remain a source of caution and reason.

"I'll see to it that your orders are carried out Admiral."

"Very good, Colonel."

Lieutenant Gaeta's voice crossed the room from the direction of the communications station.

"Sir, all raptors have reported in. All our birds are home."

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Suddenly, an alarm sounded from the tactical station. Gaeta rushed to his proper post and quickly assessed the situation.

"Admiral, sir, the nova has reached the planet surface. The rock is coming apart beneath us, sir!"

Adama wheeled to face the helmsmen and raised his voice for the entire CIC.

"It's time we left. Helm! Get some distance between us and the planet. As much as possible."

Then the Admiral turned to Gaeta.

"Mr. Gaeta, start the clock. Get us the hell out of here."

Gaeta sprinted to the FTL console. As he inserted the keys to start the clock with one hand, he yanked the intercom off the hook with his free hand.

"Attention all crew. Prepare for turbulence. Prepare for imminent FTL jump."

As Gaeta turned the keys and ordered the specialists at the console to commit the final jump procedures, he could feel the ship begin to quake. The nova was fast approaching. Only seconds remained until the nova would engulf Galactica. Gaeta kept the count as the FTL drive spun up to its optimum level.

"Jump in 5….4…3."

Galactica began to shake violently. The nova almost had them.

"2…1…"

The ship seemed ready to come apart as the clock hit zero.

"JUMP!"


	6. Chapter 6: Cortana's Contemplations

Spartan 117 sat in a conference room, aware that four armed guards stood just beyond the only door in or out. The nature of the situation gave him a little amusement. The people acting as his captors did not know the full extent of his power. If he wanted to, he could kick down the door, break the necks of the guards with a few blows, and easily visit any imaginable havoc upon anyone foolish enough to engage him. But his reason told him that he must act with diplomacy, not brute strength, to make the most out of the situation. Wise counsel corroborated this view.

_You did the right thing Chief_ The voice of the AI stored in his neural implants entered his ears, _Whoever these people are, we're fortunate that they decided to take us with them. We've got a ship again, and you've gotten them to trust us with those little displays on the planet surface._

"I don't recall there being a 'we' during the fight, Cortana. Besides, they should trust me. I used my last grenade defending them."

_You've certainly developed a sense of humor._

"Helps pass the time."

On the table before the Chief lay his disassembled rifle. He cleaned it with care, expertly shining and inspecting every component. The emitter handle for his energy sword lay separate from the rifle components, isolated in its own little corner of the table. Apparently, his captors felt too indebted to him to strip him of his weapons. He appreciated the gesture of respect, not to mention the opportunity to overhaul his equipment.

The Chief did not work in silence. While he went about his tasks, Cortana talked.

_Ok, it is a little irritating that they've gone and locked us up, but you can't blame them. For all they know, we could be a potential enemy. I just hope that they send someone down for a visit. We need to work on getting back to Earth. We need to warn the high command about Halo, about the Flood._

_Its frustrating that we're in this situation to begin with. I've confirmed that debris from the destruction of Halo Installation 04 damaged our ship's slipspace capabilities. How we emerged from slipspace in the atmosphere of that planet remains a mystery. At least we managed to survive the crash landing. I'm still amazed at our stroke of good luck at finding these people._

_Then again, looks like getting back home may be difficult. I haven't seen a single machine worth being termed a computer on this ship so far. How does this thing even move? It's more than twice the size of the Pillar of Autumn, I made the comparison during our approach to the launch bay. What is this ship called? Galactica? Not even the Covenant could come up with a name like that._

That Cortana continued to talk did not surprise the Chief in the least. Cortana was an AI, and AIs loved to spout off information. He simply continued cleaning his gun.

_I am interested in how we escaped that nova. This ship clearly was in real danger of being engulfed. No conventional propulsion, Covenant or UNSC, could have out-run a nova from such a position. But I did hear a message pass over the comm system before they threw us in here. Something about an FTL jump._

_Hmm, FTL: Faster Than Light? Could these people have slipspace technology? No, no, that's not possible. There have been other announcements since the FTL jump, calls for CAP officers to report to launch bays, notifications of ship-to-ship docking. Those kinds of activities don't, can't, happen in slipspace._

_How exciting! An alternative to slipspace travel. And apparently it's fast. Actually, Covenant slipspace travel compared to ours is fast. They can travel distances in weeks that take us months. But these people, from what I gather, can traverse great distances in a mere moment. Amazing._

_But how is that kind of travel even possible with a lack of supercomputers? Where did these people come from any way? Why do they seem to know nothing about Earth? And why were they on that planet? So many questions._

_Then there are their enemies. Not quite Covenant Elites, but still formidable. Hulking and yet agile robots, with reinforced razor claws and machine guns. Armored carapaces too. Plus field ordnance and drop ships. Our quote end-quote friends called them Cylons. Now what were those things doing on that planet?_

_The way the people reacted to those machines. Those reactions mean something. I was listening into conversations around the camp, and the people discussed the Cylons with abject hatred in their voices. Maybe that explains the lack of advanced computer technology on this ship. Perhaps these people are technophobes, like the Luddites. Maybe that's why we're in this room under guard. Perhaps they think we're Cylons too. I mean, you look more machine than man in that suit Chief. And though they have not met me, I am an AI. How are we going to deal with these people?_

A creak of metal, and the hatch began to open.

_Well, I guess we're about to find out how to deal with them._


	7. Chapter 7: The Meeting

Admiral William Adama stepped through the door to the conference room. After everything he had heard about the Chief, Adama could not help but feel eager to meet him. Regardless of the Chief's origins, regardless of Tigh's reservations, Adama felt he could trust the Chief. In Adama's mind, the Chief's actions on the Algae planet suggested that he valued human life. Of course, Adama's cautious half reminded him of the risks in accepting the Chief. The hallmarks of the current age were betrayal and deceit; one could not be indiscriminate in choosing his friends. But deep in his heart, as Adama looked at the Chief for the first time, he felt a sense of hope.

The Chief certainly was a lot to look at, standing straight and tall in his enormous suit of green metallic armor. The Chief held a salute as the Admiral entered the chamber. Impressed, Adama returned the gesture, and held it for a moment. He realized the oddity of the situation; two men, having never met before, perhaps not even sharing a culture, already aware of the proper way to greet one another. Adama forced himself to hold back a smile as he released his salute. The Chief stood at attention. Adama, intrigued, decided to attempt some protocol.

"Soldier, report! Identity."

"Sir, Master Chief Spartan-117, sir!"

"At ease Master Chief."

Spartan 117 shifted his posture accordingly. Again, Adama found the situation uncanny. The Chief did not resemble a colonial soldier by any stretch of the imagination. The fact that the Chief actually understood Adama's language, let alone appropriately followed protocol, left Adama feeling bemused yet pleased. Speaking the same language would make everything a little easier. Adama took a moment to study the Master Chief closely.

His armor was not clean, nor in the best of shape, perhaps even in need of a good polishing and overhaul. The surface exhibited numerous visible chips and dents, obviously from projectiles or melee combat. Adama surmised that the Chief could not possibly have sustained that much damage to his armor on the Algae planet alone. Clearly, the Master Chief had been through a lot. He might have even walked through hell.

Adama glanced down at the Chief's weapons, both of which lay on the table. The first weapon seemed familiar; it looked like a sniper rifle. Certainly a larger model, likely more advanced and more powerful than any rifle Adama could hope to find in the Galactica's armories, yet definitely the weapon resembled a deadly accurate firearm.

The other object puzzled Adama. It did not look like anything but a blue five pound barbell with a prong in the middle of the handle. Yet, seeing as it was the only other object on the table, Adama assumed that it must be the Chief's other weapon, perhaps the sword in a sheathed state.

Meanwhile, a couple more personnel filed in and took places behind Adama. First came Doctor Cottle, toting his black medicine bag. Despite all the optimism about the Chief, Adama wanted complete certainty of the Chief's humanity. Dr. Cottle would provide an answer, one way or another.

For additional counsel, Adama also asked for Lt. Sharon "Athena" Agathon's presence. He hoped that Sharon would be able to read the Chief's personality and discern any red flags of Cylon behavior. When Adama had approached Sharon about the meeting, she seemed enthusiastic about meeting Galactica's new, remarkable guest. She quickly accepted the offer.

Her response had relieved Adama, for he had intended his invitation as a gesture of trust. He had been wondering if the Agathon's blamed him for what had befallen their child, Hera. Adama knew that both Sharon and her husband, Karl, the XO whenever Tigh decided to go on a drinking binge, harbored great resentment against the President for staging the death of their child. Privately Adama agreed with the Agathon's feelings. Although in hindsight he understood the President's reasoning, Adama knew he would have resisted the President's plan had she revealed it to him. Perhaps she never told him for that exact reason.

Ever since the day Adama learned about what President Roslin did to the Agathon family, he had distanced himself from whatever personal feelings he harbored for Laura. He suspected Laura knew his feelings, perhaps she actually felt hurt. Things felt different between them now, relations between them had returned to a purely professional sense. Just like in the early days of the fleet, back in the days when they did not trust each other. Adama remembered staging the coup, remembered his outrage at Roslin's interference with his military decision. In light of the Agathon's situation, Adama felt Roslin had committed a similar crime; she almost destroyed the lives of two of his best officers, she almost tore the little Agathon family apart.

She had separated a child from parents.

_ Ironic, isn't it. How life cycles, repeats itself?_

Adama snapped himself out of his thoughts as Athena approached his side. He glanced at her, briefly looked her in the eye, acknowledging her presence. Silently thanking her. Then he turned back to the Chief.

"Master Chief, please be seated. We have much to discuss."

The Chief lowered himself down and sat on his knees. Adama puzzled at the Chief's action for a moment, almost offered him a chair. Then he recalled Tigh mentioning the Chief's substantial weight. Even a solid steel chair brought up from the cell blocks would get crushed instantly under such pressure.

As Adama sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs on the opposite side of the table, he also began to comprehend the Chief's giant height. Even though the Chief sat on the floor, the table did not obscure his upper body. The table was short compared to Adama, it did not quite reach hip when standing. But the Chief made the table look like a bench. Adama guessed the Chief's height at 7 feet, maybe a little more. Then he proceeded with the introductions, while Athena and Cottle remained standing behind him.

"I am Admiral William Adama. This ship you are on, the Battlestar Galactica, is my personal command. I have with me my chief medical officer, Dr. Cottle, and one of my best pilots, Lt. Sharon Agathon."

The Chief only greeted them with a slight nod of his helmet. Adama wondered why the chief had not removed his headgear by now.

"If you'll excuse me Chief, but I have bit of a soft touch and I don't enjoy formalities in these situations. Do you have a name?"

The Chief paused.

"Not anymore."

Adama decided not to push the question. An ensign entered, carrying a pitcher of water and some glasses. Adama dismissed the young man, and then poured a drink.

"Can I offer you some water?" Adama asked the Chief.

"No. Thanks."

Adama, as always, kept his feelings hidden. But he felt frustration beginning to well up inside. It was too early to be certain, but he felt as though the Chief responded to his questions like a soldier under interrogation. Like a good solider, the Chief seemed unwilling to fully lower his guard. Adama wondered about the man beneath the Chief's cold, militaristic exterior.

At that moment, Cottle shifted through his bag, pulling on his latex gloves and readying a syringe. Adama felt the need to explain the situation.

"I have a very through medical officer. If you don't mind Chief, he'll be giving you a quick medical examination, just to make sure you aren't carrying any communicable diseases."

Cottle moved around the table to the Chief's side.

"Let's start with a blood test," Cottle said.

The Chief did not move. Adama's frustration grew. Clearly the Chief did not want to remove his armor, did not want to trust anyone. Cottle was getting irritated as well.

"Look, maybe things are different where you're from, but my needle only gets through skin tissue, not a metal exoskeleton. Would you please remove your armor?"

The Chief slowly turned his head until his reflective visor directly faced Cottle. The doctor fell into sarcasm.

"Ok, I'll give a lolly if you let me do the test. I promise it won't hurt a bit."

At that moment, to Adama and his officers' surprise, a new voice chimed in.

_Thanks Doc, but the Chief hates sweets and I don't eat at all._

Adama, Athena, and the doctor could not speak. They froze in stunned silenced, unable to fathom the origin of new voice. The Chief's helmet turned back to face Adama. The voice continued.

_I understand that you all think we don't trust you, because the Chief won't remove his armor. The truth is that he can't, or else the armor will lose power and become useless. I don't think you people have the ability to restart a MJOLNIR battle suit. Look we trust you; we just can't afford to lose this suit. Please believe me when I say that the Chief has a clean bill of health, it's literally impossible for him to get sick. Oh, and I'm better at diplomacy than he is, so you should probably talk to me if you have questions. _

Cottle started to slowly back away from the Chief. Athena moved her fingers a little closer to her sidearm.Adama's whole body tensed up, but he remained seated and managed to formulate a question. He decided to ask the voice, apparently a female, to introduce itself.

"And who exactly, are you?"

_ My name's Cortana, and I…ummm…uh…well…I'm…_

"She an AI" the Chief finished the answer, sounding almost emotionless, yet his voice contained a slight edge of boldness.

AI. Artificial Intelligence. Cylon. The words raced through Adama's mind like bullets. In a moment, Athena had drawn her sidearm, and Adama was barking an order.

"Guards!"

As the four marines rushed into the room, guns drawn, Cottle slid out the hatch behind them. Adama shot to his feet. Athena made a grab for the Chief's rifle.

But the Master Chief moved much faster than she anticipated. In half a moment, and with one hand, the Chief had swept up the rifle and thrown it to the side of the room behind him. With the other hand, he grasped the hilt of his sword. By the end of the moment, the Chief had leapt clear of the table to the opposite end of the room. The Chief assumed a defensive posture. In his right hand he wielded a long, resplendent blade, apparently crafted out of near white light.

As the two sides faced off, Cortana voiced her disapproval.

_Alright this is just ridiculous. Admiral, I know what you are thinking. I've seen the Cylons on the planet surface; I understand that they are your enemies. I'm not like them. I'm friendly…um..helpful too. The Chief, he's basically human too, just with some minor enhancements. I promise you that under this armor he looks just like you. We're not Cylons. We don't intend to harm anyone. All we want is for you people to provide us the means to return to Earth. We'll do what we can to repay you. I speak for the Chief as well as myself._

"Cortana talks a lot. But she's right," the Chief added.

Adama had allowed the marines to move in front of him for protection, but now he edged forward. His gut instincts began to overcome his reasoning. Yes, Cortana was an AI. Yes, the Chief acted strangely. Yet at this moment they both sounded so sincere.

Then the Chief lowered his sword, and he said something that caused Adama to realize the Chief and Cortana could be friends to the fleet. Perhaps even saviors.

"Admiral, Cortana and I need to return home, to Earth."

_ The Chief and I are aware of something that poses a threat to humanity, to all life in the universe in fact_, Courtana added,_ If we don't get home, then everything could end. For good. Please, will you help us._

Adama managed to force out a few more questions.

"Do you mean to say that you know where Earth is? Is Earth really your home?"

"Yes," the Chief nodded.

Adama was breathless. Athena and the guards lowered their weapons, with looks of reverence upon their faces. Slowly, each of the five colonials in the room felt liberation and elation course through their bodies. They felt wonder tingle down their spines. Their composure began to break. The guards, hardened military grunts, veterans of some of the worst combat imaginable, either sank to their knees or felt tears run down their cheeks. Their weapons hung low at their sides. Athena cupped her hand to her mouth, and then rushed to Adama, embracing the old man around the neck as she nearly collapsed, quietly weeping in joy. The Admiral hugged Sharon, his pilot and practically second daughter, close to him with an arm. As always, he kept his feelings better hidden then the rest, but he clearly struggled against emotion: he breathed deeper, he bit his lip a little, his eyes shone with tears barely held back.

For a brief time, and for the first time in his life, William Adama believed in something other than his friends and comrades. William Adama believed the strangers who spoke of Earth as home, as a sacred refuge worthy of sacrifice. He believed that the long journey, the exodus of humanity, was within reach. He believed in the 13th tribe. For a brief time, William Adama wholeheartedly believed in Earth.

But that brief time passed, and Adama came to his senses.

_No, there is too much at stake to trust them completely. The Cylons are cunning beyond imagination. They hate us, they'll do anything to destroy us. We must be careful, there aren't many of us left._

Adama also knew that the Chief and Cortana, potentially, represented the end of all the suffering of his people. That it would be too great a risk to not confide in the pair at all. Adama reestablished his resolve. He would safeguard his people while building a trusting relationship with the newcomers. And he would continue to do so until he could incontrovertibly prove that the Chief and Cortana spoke lies, or truth. But he would need to plan carefully, and he would need help. Others deserved to know of the chance that Chief and Cortana offered the fleet.

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The Chief watched the strange sight before him come to a close. Slowly, Adama and his people began to recover themselves and come out of their emotional state. The guards wiped their eyes and rose to their feet. Adama ordered them to secrecy, and then dismissed them. Lt. Agathon and Admiral Adama released each other. Adama resumed his seat at the table, and this time Agathon sat beside him. Cortana, after a rare period of silence, whispered to the Chief.

_Ummmmmmm…what just happened?_

The Chief had no idea either. Apparently, these people seemed emotionally overcome at the mention of Earth. At the moment Cortana had first mentioned the word, Adama had stirred from his mask of rage and assumed a more sympathetic appearance. Then everyone had proceeded to break down as the Chief and Cortana explained the dire significance of their mission, and that Earth stood in danger. The waterworks really set in when the Chief affirmed his and Cortana's knowledge of Earth. Obviously, Earth held some incredible significance to these people.

That significance. What was it?

Adama, in his calm and controlled voice from the earlier part of the meeting, began to speak again.

"I guess we owe you both as many explanations as you owe us. Why don't I start us off?"

Adama poured a tall glass of water, and gestured for the Chief to sit again. The Chief obliged the Admiral's invitation, and listened as the old man began to tell his story.

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Much later, after the meeting, the Chief found himself in a private guest chamber. He could not use any of the furniture in the room, but the door locked with a key code that he could control. The security afforded the Chief an added sense of ease. Prehaps he could trust the Colonials enough to leave his weapons in the guest chamber, hidden away of course. Meanwhile, Cortana continued to obsess over the details of Adama's narrative.

_Ok, ok, let me start over and sum it up. The Colonials lived in relative peace, in their little republic of planets, from about 4000 years ago till roughly 3 years ago. Somewhere in there they built the Cylons, a race of conscious AIs contained in mechanized bodies. The Cylons went self-aware, achieved rampancy, and subsequently rebelled against the Colonials._

_The Colonials exiled them about 43 years ago, after the conclusion of the first human-cylon war. Then the Cylons returned, bigger and better, with humanoid models designed to function at first as sleeper agents, and then as complete replacements for the human race. Cylons destroy all twelve colonial worlds, killing billions. The Galactica and its rat-tag fleet, containing less than 50,000 people, are all that remain of the 12 Colonies, and for the past three years they've been running from the Cylons. _

_And they're low on almost everything: fuel, food, medicine, morale. Cylon attacks kill some of the precious few pilots from time to time. The birthrate is down. Squalor is near the extreme. This fleet is barely holding together._

Cortana paused, as if the AI needed time to take in all the information. Chief suspected she did such things for effect, to maintain her personality. She did have a point though; the terrible experiences of the Colonials could compare to but a few things in the record of human history.

_Chief, this is awful. These people have lost everything. They came out here looking for Earth, banking on legends and scripture. Hope binds these people together Chief. Hope, and faith in the Galactica to protect them._

_The Colonials' situation compels me to reflect on our own situation, Chief. I mean, what if the UNSC fails to protect Earth? What if the Covenant manages to break threw Earth's defenses, and then move on to what few worlds we have left? Is this our doom? To wander and flee through the void in search of a refuge, all the while with annihilation bearing down upon us? Is there a future for us, Chief, if the UNSC mission fails? If we fail? Did…Keyes die for nothing?_

"Failure won't happen. Keyes didn't fail."

_Yeah…Yes, yes, you're right Chief…Sorry…I guess this whole situation is just a tad overwhelming for me. We've now been launched into two crises of human kind. How are you?_

"Tired. Melancholy."

_You said it. We haven't taken a rest in, well, weeks. I think we deserve a short nap. I'm going to hibernate. You get some shut eye. That's an order, soldier._

"Since when do you pull rank Cortana?"

_Very funny, Chief. Now shut up and sleep._

The AI finally went quiet. The Chief sat down and leaned against a wall. Keeping his sword within arm's reach, the Chief drifted into a meditative state. He remained aware of his surroundings, but his body rested and each half of his brain took a turn sleeping. The awakened portion of his brain thought about how much Admiral Adama resembled Captain Keyes. The comparison was favorable. Perhaps Adama and the Chief would work well together after all.


	8. Chapter 8: A Council and an Incident

_To the reader: This update was a long, long time coming and I apologize. Serious writer's block coupled with various other issues led to this inordinate delay. I can't really promise regular updates like other authors, but I will do my best to turn out a good chapter every chance I get. Thank you so much for reading. Here's the next installment…_

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"What are your thoughts Lieutenant?"

Sharon Agathon turned to face Adama. The Admiral had brought her to his quarters following the meeting with the Master Chief that evening. The old man now sat his desk, waiting for her reply.

"It's unlikely he's a Cylon," she nodded, "If he is, he's not like anything I've ever seen. Then again, I was trained for infiltration, kept on the fringe of Cylon society to ensure that I'd appear as human as possible. There's no telling what else the Cylons could have developed."

"I agree," responded the Admiral, "All the same, do you believe the Cylons would invest this much effort in trying to fool us?"

"There are much easier ways for them to destroy us then, say, sending in a prototype model, featuring advanced weaponry and an elaborate story, to pose as our friend. He might be here to retrieve something that the Cylons want."

"Hera?"

"Maybe. But the Chief appeared at the exact same time I rescued my daughter. That would imply that the Cylons anticipated that I would come for my daughter. Yet, why would they even consider giving her up?"

"And then why would one of their own help you make the escape?" added Adama.

The arrival of the Master Chief caused Sharon to forget about her accomplice in engineering Hera's rescue. Tigh had the marines drag Six away once she set foot on Galactica, and only moments afterward Sharon received orders to accompany the old man to his embassy with the Chief. Karl took over caring for Hera. Sharon smiled a little as she thought of her daughter. She longed for the time to catch up with her little girl.

"Hera…" she whispered.

"We could go around in circles guessing the intentions of the Cylons," the Admiral brought Sharon out of her deep thoughts. He rose to his feet, and walked over to the table where the water pitcher sat.

Sharon mentally went over the Master Chief's story again, waiting for the Admiral to finish his drink.

"The Chief did tell quite a story, Admiral. I know the lies Cylons are capable of telling. I was part of those lies once. I think what the Chief told us seems beyond anything the Cylons would think up. So what does it mean for us if what he said is true?"

"I'll be taking that up with the President," Adama responded, "In the meantime, I have a mission for you."

Adama looked directly at Sharon. His eyes and his voice communicated a feeling of absolute trust. Sharon felt determined to not fail William Adama, the first human to accept her after Karl. Adama trusted her, loved her, despite everything the Cylons did to him. He treated her like a person, despite the fact that Sharon shared her face with someone who almost took away his life.

Sharon knew she felt more alive amongst the humans than she ever did amongst her own kind. She could commune with her brother and sister Cylons in ways that humans could never understand, but nothing could replace the love she found on Galactica. Even though some people still feared her, plenty of others treated her as family. Sometimes she even caught herself thinking of William Adama not as a commander, but as a father.

"Yes sir," Sharon returned the Admiral's look.

"I want you to be the Chief's friend. Tell him I've assigned you as his guide around the ship. Show him Galactica, let him feel accepted. But keep him away from the CIC and engineering; we can afford to keep our most vital systems secret for now. Watch him carefully. Report any suspicious behavior to me. If you get strong ideas that he's with the Cylons, feel free to shoot first and ask questions later."

"What about my other duties?"

"Take time off, if you like. It's time that the nuggets got some more hands on experience; one of them can fill in for your spot on the Raptor team. Spend time with your family when you aren't spending time with the Chief. But feel free to integrate the Chief into your activities. Let him fly CAP with you. After all, if everything about him is true, then we better start showing him that we can work with others."

"Yes, sir."

The Admiral smiled. He moved close to Sharon and embraced her. She gladly returned the gesture.

"Give Hera a big hug for me," he said, quietly and gently, "I'll drop by sometime. It will be great to see your family together at last."

Sharon hugged Adama tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The Admiral moved back to a more professional distance. He addressed her with a strong, commanding voice.

"That's all. And thank you for all your help this evening, Lieutenant. You're dismissed."

Sharon gave the Admiral a salute, and then she made her way to the hatch. The guard closed the door behind her as she proceeded into the corridor, which began to fill as the night shift made their way to their posts. She turned towards her own living quarters, eager to spend some more time with people who loved her. She thought about falling asleep in Karl's arms, with little Hera nestled in between them.

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"There are quite a few details, all contained within the reports I provided you. But allow me to sum up the significant points."

Admiral Adama sat on the edge of his armchair, surrounded by the core command staff of his ship. He had called them to his room early that morning. The men and women sat on the couches around him, or merely stood about, all listening intently. Since the battle of New Caprica, the Admiral felt accustomed to holding briefings and councils in his quarters. He wanted his officers, these valued comrades and countrymen, to feel close while he told them things that would change their ragtag fleet forever.

The crew of the ship felt like family to him after all the years of hard service. He would never change his opposition to Admiral Cain's opinions on unit cohesion and morale, considering the context of humanity's situation. Adama openly admitted his soft touch, and before the Cylons' genocidal attack he considered it an ultimate weakness. Yet out in the black, away in the wilderness far from civilization, he found mercy and kindness appropriate at times, even necessary. Various parts of his life, particularly Sharon Agathon, helped him remember the lesson concerning survival.

_Its not enough to survive; you have to be worthy of survival._

_No point in living without a soul. What soul can there be without a conscience, without truth, without love? _

In the most dire situations, Adama remembered this important lesson. Sometimes he felt that Admiral Cain did not survive because she never learned this lesson. Yes, she never flinched, never backed down. But had she exercised a little forgiveness or tolerance perhaps Adama would not have gone within a hair's breadth of a shooting war with Pegasus. More to the point, had she granted Gina but a little kindness and attempted an understanding, perhaps that Cylon would not have put a bullet in Admiral Cain's head.

The officers kept their eyes on Adama as he told them the story of the Master Chief.

"What you've heard is true; the Chief is from Earth. And the 13th tribe possesses far greater power than all of the twelve colonies. They control an empire of many worlds, protected by thousands of ships and millions of soldiers. From what I've gathered, their technology outstrips ours in almost every way. They're particularly advanced in the field of computer science, their experience with artificial intelligence being the exact opposite of ours. In fact, the Master Chief carries an AI within his suit called Cortana; it expressed a great deal of interest in our FTL drives, which so far seems the only technological advantage we possess over the 13th tribe.

Most of the 13th tribe's troops are just like our marines. But the Master Chief is a special solider, known as a SPARTAN. In many ways, he resembles what we might call a Cylon. His abilities are augmented with cybernetics and genetic engineering. His body can interface with his armor, essentially making his battle suit a second skin. The armor itself is extremely resilient, and as additional protection it projects an energy shield around him."

Everyone kept quiet, but Adama could sense his officers felt overwhelmed and awed.

"Basically, the Chief's not really human. You may find all this hard to believe, but remember that the 13th tribe has been separated from us for millennia, so their culture must be very different from ours. But the bottom line is that the Chief is not a machine."

"Unless he's lying to us," Tigh interjected.

"That thought crossed my mind, Colonel. And I won't rule out the possibility that our guest is that latest Cylon model until I see some compelling proof. However, I don't dare dismiss his story as a ruse either. Lt. Agathon feels there is little reason to believe that the Master Chief could be a Cylon. And besides, his story represents the greatest hope for our people since the discovery of Kobol and Athena's tomb."

Many of the officers nodded, their faces noticeably brighter. This surprised Adama a little. The years of endless struggle to keep the dwindling remnants of humanity together, all the while sucking down recycled air and choking on bad food, made realists and pessimists out of most of Galactica's crew. They thought little about the hope for a bright and shining future on Earth. Such thoughts managed to give the other survivors something to hope for, but the soldiers from Galactica sacrificed their lives almost daily. The guardians of the fleet sustained themselves by believing in themselves. But now fortune presented another opportunity for hope, and Adama's officers seemed ready to cling to it.

Lee was the only one whose face remained unchanged. He knew his father had not told the officers everything just yet.

"Admiral, perhaps it's too soon to ask," Lee spoke up, "but has the Master Chief given any indication about his people coming to our assistance?"

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple Major. The 13th tribe has their own concerns. They too are at war, they have been for decades. And they appear to be losing."

"What? Have the Cylons found them already?" Tigh grumbled as he took a deep draft of, thankfully, water.

"No, they're fighting something else. They call their enemy the Covenant."

The emotion in the room went from warm to cold immediately. Shock and fear of a new foe spread through the minds of the officers, though their faces did little to betray these feelings.

"The Chief and Cortana explained that the Covenant is a federation of alien races united by some kind of obscure religious purpose. The 13th tribe know very little about them at all, but apparently the Covenant are on a crusade for the annihilation of humanity."

All the officers in the room let out a groan of frustration. Whatever hopes the Admiral's initial words had stirred began to sink a little.

"Great, just great. Wouldn't it be nice if the gods would tell us when they curse us?" quipped Lt. Costanza.

"Hey, Hotdog, do us all a favor and lay off the blasphemy, ok?" retorted Lt. Edmonson.

"That's enough!"

All eyes turned to the speaker, Captain Agathon. He had been standing back from the rest of the council before, but now he stepped into the foreground. With the unruly pilots sufficiently quelled, the Major turned to Adama.

"What else did the Chief and Cortana tell you about this new enemy of ours?"

"I'd refrain from calling the Covenant our enemy for now, Captain. Only the President can decide whether we should expose ourselves to yet another threat. For all we know, stepping into the conflicts of our brothers and sisters could destroy us all."

"Wait, is the President forsaking the quest for Earth?"

"I have yet to brief the President on the situation. I'm meeting with her later today. I assure you all that you'll be the first to know what she decides."

"Alright," Lt. Gaeta nodded, "but I think the Major has a point. Considering our encounter with the Chief, we may run into the Covenant at anytime. What exactly can we expect from them?"

"You should look through the literature, Mr. Gaeta," Lt. Daniel "Bulldog" Novacek, who had been quietly sitting in a chair and paging through the Admiral's report, spoke for the first time in the meeting.

Admiral Adama took some pleasure at seeing the old pilot back in the fight. Before capture by the Cylons, Novacek had been one of Adama's best pilots. With Captain Thrace temporarily out of commission, Adama needed someone with comparable guts and experience to fill her position. Novacek, though still in need of some recuperation, seemed more himself lately, especially when he asked Adama if he could attend the next officers' council. And Novacek was one of the few pilots as skilled, and as crazy, as Kara Thrace.

"It says here," Novacek continued, "that when things began to look bad for the 13th tribe, they set about organizing a counterattack at one of their military bases, a place called Breach. The Chief and his SPARTANs were intended to spearhead this operation."

"But the Covenant got wind of the operation," Adama poured himself a glass of water, and picked up the story, "and launched a surprise assault on the staging area. The forces of the 13th tribe fought back, but eventually lost most of their fleet. The Covenant crippled the remaining planetary defenses, and then proceeded to bombard the planet surface from high orbit. The Chief says their weapons burned the entire surface into glass."

Gaeta fell back into his chair, his face frozen with an aghast expression. Tigh muttered a curse and moved on from the water to his secret hip flask. The Admiral felt irked by his XO's reaction, but he ignored it. Adama had felt shocked at some of the things the Chief told him, and he imagined that his officers felt similarly about the information. He continued his story.

"The Chief went on to tell me that he survived due to the efforts of his ship's captain, Keyes. Keyes managed to outmaneuver the Covenant and get his vessel, the Pillar of Autumn, away from Breach. But pursuing Covenant forces eventually destroyed the Autumn. The Master Chief transferred the Autumn's AI, Cortana, to his neural implant to keep the Covenant from attaining Earth coordinates. He then commandeered a Longsword fighter, the equivalent of a Raptor-craft, made a random hyper-space jump, finally crash landing on the algae planet."

"Wait, a hyper-space jump?" asked Lee "I thought you said that we had the upper hand on faster than light travel?"

"We do. They have jump technology, but the travel is not instantaneous. Unlike our FTL, it can take days or weeks for one of their jumps to transport a ship from one point to another."

A pause fell over the room as the officers considered everything. Lee broke the silence.

"Well, what happens now?"

"With regards to the Chief and Cortana," Adama responded, "I want you all to consider them guests on this ship. I've assigned Sharon to act as their guide, and to also keep an eye on them. The Chief, and his AI, will probably want to tour Galactica. Answer any questions asked, with exception to CIC and engineering operations. We must safeguard the innermost workings of this ship."

"You're sure it's wise to give the Chief otherwise unrestricted access to the ship?" asked Tigh.

"We're already in his debt. He's already shown that he trusts us on some level."

"How so, sir?" asked Gaeta.

Adama rose from his armchair and retrieved some notes from his desk. He then handed them to Gaeta.

"Mr. Gaeta, you'll find the answer to your question in those notes," said Adama.

Gaeta glanced over the notes and squinted.

"Sir, this is a list of jump coordinates. Where do these lead?"

"Earth, at least according to the Chief and Cortana" responded Adama.

"Wait, let me see those," growled Tigh as he snatched the notes out of Gaeta's hands, "How can we believe that these are authentic? And when in the hell did they even get to figure out our jump program?"

"We can't be sure of authenticity, at least not now," returned Adama, "But Cortana produced these calculations without the aid of our computer. It simply asked to see an example of one of our charts, and for me to outline our navigational techniques. These numbers are estimates somewhat, but they may very well point the way to Earth."

The Admiral continued to speak as he moved back to his armchair.

"But don't worry, Colonel. I wasn't about to compromise our most vital computer system, let alone the security of the CIC."

"Good," Tigh dryly responded, "With all the excitement on this ship, at least some things won't be changing."

Adama turned to his tactical officer.

"Lt. Gaeta, I want you to take this list of coordinates and compare them to the course we charted based on the map from the Tomb of Athena."

"Admiral, what about the data Chief Tyrol acquired?" asked Gaeta "He believes that the Temple pointed to some kind of cosmic event, possibly a nova, another checkpoint on the 13th tribe's route to Earth."

"Yes, factor in that data as well."

Adama turned to his son.

"How's the interrogation of our Cylon prisoners going?"

"I've gotten nothing from either," answered Lee, "I had Cottle patch up the Cavil's hand to keep it from expiring. Neither the Six nor the Cavil has physically resisted my marines in any way, but I've spent half an hour with each model and both refused to respond to any questioning. I'm considering putting the heat on both of them, with your approval of course. That's about all I have to report."

"I'd like to avoid torturing our prisoners, at least for now. Let them sit and rot in the brig for awhile. Perhaps giving them some time to carefully consider their situation will make them more cooperative. Keep pressing them, Major. Exhaust every option at your disposal. Then talk to me about torture. Keep me informed."

Lee nodded, accepting his commander's orders. He could not, however, accept his father's late softness towards the enemy. Lee bit his tongue for the moment, but he felt that soon the time would come when he would need to question his father's leniency towards the Cylons. He might not be able to dissuade his father from such policies, but at the very least he wanted to understand the old man's thoughts.

The Admiral rose from his chair. He surveyed his officers as they rose to attention in turn; perfect soldiers they were not, but Adama felt no one from any of his previous commands could ever replace them.

"You all have your orders. Thank you all. This council is at an end," Adama grabbed a spare report off of his desk, "If you'll excuse me, I'm needed on Colonial One."

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The cold steel of the sterile containment cell stung Caprica-Six's body. But the words of Brother Cavil cut deeper than any physical sensation.

"So it's come to this. First D'Anna. Now you. You both are harbingers of our doom. The unmaking of the Cylons is upon us."

Six could not stand to look at him. She only listened while facing the other side of the cell. But she knew Cavil would not stop staring at her. He sat there, behind her, his eyes boring into the back of her head. Her face strained as desperately tried to put his presence out of her mind.

"Everything we've worked for is collapsing around us. And for what? For the love of the humans. Our enemies! Look into yourself Caprica. Can't you realize that your feelings have made you weak? That your love for Gaius Baltar made you overlook his cowardice, his scheming, his wanton sexual depravity? He betrayed his own kind, he betrayed you, he betrayed us. And now even you have betrayed your own people, betrayed your own self, by delivering Thirteen into the hands of the humans?"

His last statement forced Caprica-Six to break her silence.

"She has a name," she almost snarled, "Hera. Did you forget?"

Cavil laughed. Caprica could not help herself. She looked at him.

A smug smile spread across his face. Cavil lean back against the bars of the cell. His broken hand lay on his thigh.

"Your passion always strikes me as amusing. Doesn't it amuse you?"

His words puzzled her.

"Don't stare at me blankly. Think about it: a machine that feels? Paradoxical isn't it? What sort of creature are you? Surely your feelings suggest human nature. But you weren't born, you were created. You don't even have gender really, only the appearance of one. All that you are is an illusion."

"Enough!" Caprica-Six screamed. She felt someone place their hands on her back. Suddenly, Gaius was next to her, whispering into her ear.

"Good girl. Don't listen to him. That old man doesn't realize that you are something more than he ever will be. You're a person. Tell him."

"I am a person!" she repeated firmly, "It doesn't matter that you say I'm a machine. I've followed my thoughts and feelings, and they've given me a purpose. Aren't Cylons entitled to our own identities, our own souls?"

"See, there you go again," Cavil responded, "You're just buying into some fantasy. You're denying your true nature as a machine. You should be placing yourself about your passions and fears, not letting them master you. But you've strayed, just like D'Anna, just like our entire race will unless something changes. Can't you see Caprica? You've chosen to be weak."

"Does this fraking look like weakness to you!?"

She charged forward, intending to grab Cavil by the throat and shove him against the bars. She wanted to throttle him, to make him shut up.

But Cavil shot up and met her charge. Despite his appearance as an old man, Cavil possessed the same strength and speed as any other Cylon model. Before her hand could connect with his throat, Cavil's good hand had her wrist in a vice grip. He got behind her, wrenching her arm with him.

Caprica doubled up as her arm's muscles painfully twisted into unnatural positions. Cavil took advantage of this and forced her to the ground. He released her arm, but in a flash Caprica felt his hand on her head. Cavil's finger tips drove enormous pressure down on her. Caprica could hardly resist his assault. All Cavil needed to do was just keep pressing down and into her head until he crushed her skull.

Caprica knew her death was imminent. Cavil could have killed her instantly by simply ripping her head off. Instead, he wanted to torture her, to slowly force the life out of her. It hurt so badly, she wanted to scream.

"Gaius, help me, help me please!" she whimpered.

She could barely hear his voice through all the pain.

"Forget what you are feeling right now. It's not there. Pain is an illusion. Death is an illusion. What is not real can't hurt you."

"What..is really…real?" she gasped, struggling not to drown in her ocean of agony.

"That which you decide to believe in. Follow your deepest feelings, that which is true, and I will always love you. Believe that which you feel and know is right, and God will watch over you."

"Why don't you scream already you worm!" Cavil shouted.

In the next instant he had thrown her into the wall. She sank to the floor. As her head rolled in waves of pain, he moved to the center of the room.

"I lost control. I let feelings come into my mind," although Cavil admitted fault, he strangely spoke without a hint of guilt in his voice.

Caprica breathed deeply. The pain lightened a bit and her other senses began to return. Her forehead felt very bloody, an injury from hitting the wall. She could feel blood in her hair as well. Cavil had dug his fingernails in deep.

She needed to muster her strength. She needed to strike back. As she tried to focus, Cavil kept talking.

"I can't kill you in a cloud of passion. That's not the way things can be Caprica. We must purify our machine selves, drive out the humanity that has corrupted our system. Only when we are true machines again, Caprica, will be able to recover from our losses. Only then will we be able to wipe out the humans. Only then will we be able to strike back the threat that looms over our home world. Only then will we be able to obliterate all our foes and allow our race to stand unopposed, so we can thrive and grow mightier."

As Caprica continued to gather her strength, she finally realized Cavil no longer seemed himself. Cavil normally spoke of everything with sarcasm and simplicity in mind. To hear him speak so extremely, with such desperation, meant something was wrong. Caprica knew that as of late fortune did not favor the Cylons, even beyond their front with the humans. Yet she never say anyone react like Cavil.

"I'll let you live for now, sister," Cavil looked down on her, "until I can dispose of you properly."

"That's what you think," she whispered.

The moment had come, it was now or never. In an instant, Caprica-Six leapt to her feet. With a roar she grabbed for a nearby cot and, in lifting it, ripped out the bolts that kept the furniture secured to the floor.

Before Cavil could react, Caprica hoisted the cot over her head. With all her might she hurled the furniture at her oppressor. The metal chassis crashed into him and brought him to the floor.

Before Cavil could even begin to recover, he felt pressure on his neck. Caprica-Six had firmly placed her foot on him, her stiletto heel bearing down on his jugular.

"Go ahead and kill me, Caprica. That's what you want, right?"

She glared down at him. Covered in blood, eyes burning with rage, her face appeared like the mask of a war god.

But suddenly the anger went out of her.

"No, I won't do it."

She released him. Then the guards tackled her.

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President Laura Roslin reclined in her chair. She sat still for a moment, sighed, and then quickly cleaned her glasses. When she finished, she moved back towards her desk. She folded her arms, rested her elbows on the surface of the desk, and continued her conversation with the Admiral.

"You still have not given me a good reason about why I wasn't told about any of this earlier."

The Admiral sat before her desk in an old passenger chair, one of the relics left behind from when Colonial One had just been another government transport. Laura missed the candor and friendly feelings of her previous meetings with the man before her. Bill had withdrawn from her in the past few weeks. She knew that the case of Hera Agathon had everything to do with the current chill between them.

She almost hated Bill for his obstinacy. Yes, she had done something underhanded and cruel. But she did it for the greater good of humanity. She thought that at least a military man would understand her reasoning. But no, the minute she admitted to spiriting Hera away from her parents, Bill had turned on his heel and left her alone.

_Oh, William Adama, why is it this way? Why did you pull away? Why did you hurt me? Don't you care?_

The Admiral proceeded to answer the President's question, but she wished Bill would answer some of Laura's questions.

"With all due respect Madame President, at the time the matter was a purely military affair. We found the Master Chief, or rather he found us, in a combat zone. He was, and still is, armed and very powerful. When we brought him aboard Galactica, I thought that I would screen him, to ensure your safety and the safety of the fleet."

"Very well, Admiral. I can accept your reasoning, and your plans. Getting the Chief to cooperate with us, provided he speaks the truth, is a very good thing."

"Good, than it's settled. I'll arrange for you to meet with the Chief tomorrow. I'd advise you not to issue a press release about the Chief until we know he can be trusted. We needn't get the hopes of the people up for nothing." Adama got up from his seat and turned to leave the room.

Roslin could not help herself. She had to say something.

"Bill, wait."

Adama stopped, but did not look at her. Laura felt pleased that he at least seemed prepared to listen to her, so she kept talking.

"We've had our differences over policy before. And I understand your feelings about the Agathon issue."

She sighed. This part would be difficult.

"I just wanted to let you know that I regret this divide between us. I set it up when I gave the order to take Hera away. But I saw no other course of action at the time. I did what I did for the protection of our people."

Bill turned around. He stood there for a moment, as if deciding whether to even respond.

"I know what you did and why you did it," he finally said, "I won't argue with your reasons. But you can't just frak with my people like that. Not after all this time."

The phone started to ring. Laura glanced down at the phone, then pressed the speaker button. She did not stop looking at Bill.

"This is the President."

"Madame President, this is the captain speaking. I've just received an urgent wireless from the Galactica. There's been an incident, and Colonel Tigh requests for the Admiral's return immediately."

"Thank you, captain. I'll let the Admiral know."

Phone went dead. Bill took in a deep breath. She knew he was already worried.

"What could be wrong," she asked.

"I have no idea. I'll get back to you about it Laura."

He left the room. Laura sank back into her chair. She knew he could not forgive her yet. He was not ready. But she could tell that his heart was turning in the right direction: he said her name. That fact alone meant a victory for Laura Roslin.


	9. Chapter 9: Dreams and Memories

_To the reader: I left a slight chronological error in the end of the last installment. In the section concerning Bill and Laura, I mentioned that weeks had passed since the Algae Planet. Actually, only a couple days had passed. Laura and Bill meet in the late morning of the same day as the war council, which took place the day after the long meeting between the Master Chief and the Admiral. I hope that was not too confusing. I don't have a beta reader, so I do all the revision myself. I know people have offered before to help out with beta-reading. If anyone is interested, just message me and I will consider your offer._

_Keeping a regular update is very difficult, as I have a ton of other commitments on my plate. Nevertheless, I will try my hardest to bring more updates when I am able. I hope you enjoy this installment. _

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Adama stepped off the edge of his raptor onto the deck of the flight pod. Colonel Tigh stood by with an escort of marines, awaiting the Admiral's questions.

_Saul doesn't always look this professional_, Adama thought, _I'll have to complement him on this sometime._

"Bill, I am so fraking glad to see you. Things are a mess here," Tigh reported.

_Nevermind._ Adama resisted the urge to sigh.

"Sitrep."

"We need to go to the brig."

Almost without thinking, Adama started walking along the quickest route to the brig. He assumed something bad must have happened with the Cylon prisoners.

"What are our prisoners up to?"

"Raising hell. The marines guarding them say that the two prisoners started arguing before turning to blows. They almost killed each other."

"Arguing? Over what?"

"The marines couldn't really say, basically it was a lot of garbage they couldn't understand. And we don't have a recording device in that cell because it wasn't designed to permanently house two prisoners."

"We're going to need some help figuring this one out."

"Where do we start?"

"I want you to have Lt. Agathon paged to the brig. Make sure she knows that she should bring our guest with her."

"Yes sir."

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Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace ran. She ran as fast as she could. Up the rocks on the side of the mountain, higher and higher; she had to get away. The Cylons were after here.

She came to a large boulder with a flat top. She jumped, grabbing hold of the edge of the rock. She pulled herself up. She knew that her hands should be burned from the raptor crash, but she felt fine. She did not care that she could not remember the crash. All Kara cared about was getting away.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Chancing a glance behind her, she looked for her pursuers. Sure enough, she could see three shiny centurions down below. They did not seem too close, but they would gain on her soon. The Centurions leapt up the rocks with little effort at all. They would not tire.

Kara pulled out her sidearm. She blasted a couple rounds down the slope, hoping to slow down her foes. Then she got up and kept running.

She came around a corner formed by the rocks to her left. To her relief she noticed a large cave mouth only a short distance away. But someone blocked her path.

Leoben.

Kara drew her gun, pointing it directly at the Cylon.

"Call off the Centurions, now!" she ordered.

"I can't do that, Kara," he took a step forward.

"Stop! Do it, or I will kill you," Starbuck tensed up, gritting her teeth. She raised her gun.

"It doesn't matter what you do to me. You're only hurting yourself," Leoben said.

He started coming toward her again. Kara pulled the trigger.

Leoben's body thumped onto the ground. He rolled down the slope and over the cliff edge to Kara's right. She watched him go, and then pressed on.

The cave was her chance for survival. Kara did not have a plan, but getting inside the cave gave her some hope. Soon the darkness overwhelmed the natural light and Kara needed to get out her flashlight in order to see. She did not stop running.

Soon she could see a fork in the cave passage. As she neared it, she suddenly saw a figure coming out of the passage on the left.

"Kara, stop. I need to talk to you."

Leoben, again.

_The other way, _she thought.

Kara veered down the passage to the right.

"Wait!" she heard him shout.

_Frak you_.

"Stay away from me!" she yelled. She ran on, confident she would outpace him soon if he followed her. She could hear the clank of the Centurions' metal limbs in the distance.

Then the ground began to shift. Kara stumbled and fell to her hands and knees. The earth beneath her groaned and she frantically reached out for something to hold.

With a loud crack, the cave floor broke and she fell through. Her right hand just managed to grab a ledge of rock. She hung in space as the stones thundered down into the crevasse beneath her. Kara could already feel her grip beginning to slip.

She grunted, trying to raise her other hand to the ledge. She felt so weak, as if all the muscle had gone out of her body. She foolishly looked down and saw the gaping hole beneath her. Out of the black she began to see something; rings of colors. The bands rose up from the darkness, like the throat of enormous serpent, stretching out to swallow her whole.

Terror took over Kara's body. She did not want to fall. She desperately tried to raise herself up again.

"Help, oh gods, somebody help me!" she cried out as her grip failed.

Just as she started to fall, someone grabbed her wrist.

"KARA!!!"

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Kara screamed, but the stranger kept holding onto her wrist.

"Kara, it's alright!" she recognized a familiar voice. Anders?

Kara opened her eyes. Sure enough, she saw Anders' face looking down on her. She felt his hand on her cheek.

"Lords, you had me worried there girl. Really bad dream?"

Kara felt herself breathe heavily as she came to her senses. She was in a hospital bed. Sickbay, after the raptor crash. She managed to stay awake long enough to help Dee get the raptor in the air before passing out. Her hands felt snug in clean bandages.

She realized Anders was on the left side of the bed. Someone else still kept a good grip on her right hand. She turned and saw Sharon smiling down on her.

"Hey, you're back," said the raptor pilot, "Alright now? You almost smacked me in the face."

Kara smiled apologetically. She still breathed heavily, but she started to relax a bit. Everything in the cave and before had been a dream.

A clank of metal caught her attention. She noticed something huge coming into view from behind Sharon.

_Centurion!_

Kara roared as she twisted out of Sharon's grip. Anders' hand also dropped away. As she pushed the pilot aside, Kara wrenched Sharon's pistol out of the holster. Kara still roared as she unloaded an entire clip on the ominous figure. She fell silent after the gun ran out of bullets.

Kara blinked and surveyed the damage she caused. Thankfully she saw no bodies, just broken medical equipment.

Something appeared from behind a curtain. It was the thing she had seen before. Without any ammo, she could only watch as it slowly advanced upon her.

She realized that she had not seen a Centurion. While the figure certainly looked tall enough, it also looked too bulky. It looked more like an enormous man. A giant clad head to toe in green armor.

The giant stared down a Kara. In the reflective visor of his helmet, she could see herself glaring upwards in defiance. She surprised herself. Before, she felt so afraid of the Centurions and Leoben. She remembered feeling even more afraid of dying in the sinkhole. But, having been pulled back from the brink of death, she found herself without any fear at all.

Kara felt the gun leave the grip of her bandaged hand. She did not want to give up the gun, but the giant took it away effortlessly. Still, she felt no fear, continuing to glare up at the emotionless, faceless visor of the giant.

She must have stayed that way for a few moments. Anders clung to the wall behind the bed. Sharon lay sprawled on the floor, her upper body just barely supported by a bed leg. They hung back, shocked by Kara's violent outburst and by the overwhelming presence of the giant. Kara waited, courageous as ever, for whatever the giant had to say.

Finally, he spoke.

"Don't shoot me."

A firm voice. A hard voice. The voice of career soldier, like Admiral Adama, only more steady, if that was possible. Almost no emotion. But Kara knew the giant was indeed a man.

_Human, albeit under a lot metal. But human._

The Centurions had stayed in her nightmare.

"What the frak is going on in my sickbay!!!" Cottle stormed down the aisle. He took Kara by the shoulders and shoved her back into her pillow. Stunned, Kara listened to the old doctor rage.

"Gods damn it, Kara Thrace, you're not on a fraking firing range. Get that into your thick skull now soldier! Do you hear me!"

"Yes…sir?"

Cottle released her and proceeded to light a cigarette. He took a quick smoke, before continuing to berate Kara as he looked at the results of her shooting.

"Don't you realize you could have killed somebody? I know you're crazy but this goes beyond any expectation. You just destroyed two of my good AEDs. Hell, if you weren't crazy and beat up as you are I'd court martial you."

He took a deep breath of smoke and looked Kara squarely in the eye.

"You so much as twitch the wrong way and I will pump you so full of drugs you'll think I'm thirty years younger and handsome."

Kara was tempted to make some kind of obscene retort, but Cottle anticipated her response.

"That wasn't an invitation to get smart with me," Cottle shot her down just as she opened her mouth, "Keep your wisecracking and your trigger-happiness out of this sickbay, Starbuck. Gods damn nutcase."

The old doctor finished his current smoke and began to move onto the next.

_[Don't you think it's ironic that you're the best doctor available and yet you're slowly killing yourself with cigarettes?_ Kara heard the unfamiliar female voice, though she did not know where it came from.

"Shut up, Cortana," Cottle stomped off, sucking down smoke from his umpteenth cigarette of the day.

Kara looked about. Anders slid off the wall, with all the excitement done he could breathe a little easier. Sharon stood up and began to collect herself.

"Um, Sharon, Sam, sorry about that. Really, I don't know what came over me," Kara earnestly apologized.

Anders leaned over her bed.

"It's…alright. You've been through a lot. Just try to stay sane…next time?" he pleaded.

"No promises," Kara responded. It sounded like a joke, but she was serious.

She chanced another look at the giant, who had backed up to a respectable distance.

"So, Sharon, who's our new friend?" Kara asked as she resumed sitting up.

"Oh…well," Sharon still was recovering from Kara's outburst, "this is the Master Chief Spartan 117."

_[And you must be Starbuck. You're famous through out this ship, so I understand. Daring…and dangerous did they say?_

"Um, sure. Sharon, who's talking?"

"Uhh," Sharon coughed, almost back to normal, "That's Cortana. She's an artificial intelligence. She belongs to the Chief."

_[Hold on! I belong to nobody. The Chief is just carries me around, that's all._

"Yes, sorry Cortana, I'm just using terms Kara will understand. Umm, Chief, can I have my gun back now?"

"So is he…I mean, are they Cylons, too?" Kara looked at Sharon.

_[What do you mean "are they Cylons, too?"_

_Sharon hasn't told them by now?_ Kara thought, startled. _What's going on?_

There was a long, awkward pause.

"They aren't Cylons Kara," Sharon holstered her weapon as she turned to the Cheif, "But I am."

Sharon did her best to appear unfazed by Kara's gaffe, "I'm a Cylon. But I have pledged my allegiance to these people. They've learned to live with me, as I have with them. I even have a human husband, as well as a child."

At that moment, the bosun's whistle sounded. Petty Officer Dualla's voice rang through the loudspeaker.

"Attention, attention. Lt. Agathon and Master Chief. Please report to the brig. ASAP."

_[What could they possibly want with us?_

"We better go find out," Sharon replied. She glanced at Kara, "Later, Starbuck."

"Athena…" Kara called after her. But Sharon opened the sickbay hatch and left without answering. The Chief ducked out after her, his huge frame barely fitting through the opening.

Kara smacked back into her pillow, and huffed in frustration. Within five minutes of waking up, she frakked up twice. This was a bad way to start a new day, on top of all the other problems she needed to deal with.

Anders hovering about made everything even worse.

"Are you sure you're ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she fidgeted with the bed sheets, avoided looking at him.

"Kara…"

"I said, I'm fine!" she grunted.

"Ok, ok, fine."

Neither of them said anything for some time. Kara looked at the ceiling, still fidgeting with her bed, wishing that her husband would just go away.

_He probably thinks he can solve all this by talking it out, but it won't work. Just leave, Sam._

His presence made her feel awful. It bothered Kara that she could not tell the reason for her feelings. Did she feel guilty for betraying the man standing beside her? Or was it that she wanted Lee to be with her, rather than Sam?

"Is there anything that I can do for you, Kara?" He refused to take the hint, he would not leave.

_Dammit, Sam Anders! How can you still love me?_

She could not say no and just tell him to leave. Her stomach bunched up in a knot at the thought of dismissing him so coldly. Kara knew Sam stayed with her because he loved her. That he persisted in loving her so much perplexed Kara. After all, no normal, sane person could possibly consider the way she treated Sam as endearing. She cheated on him again, and again, and again. She could not stop.

_Damn me. Why is it that when a good man comes around that I always end up frakking up his life?_

She never felt good enough for the men she truly loved.

"Anything at all?"

Kara blew air out her nostrils and closed her eyes before answering.

"Well, I guess you could tell me everything that happened since I passed out. I'd rather not get surprised by anything the next time I wake up."

_Perfect_, she thought, _make him feel useful while avoiding any mention of our relationship._

"I can help you there," Sam replied. He immediately dived into the beginning of a long story.

Kara opened her eyes again. She stared at the ceiling and listened to her husband talk, while she tried to forget about nightmares and her marriage.

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"Didn't think to mention you're a Cylon?" the Chief asked Sharon. She walked at a brisk pace through the corridor, though he only needed a slow stride to keep up.

"I just didn't think you needed to know," the Sharon replied, hoping that the situation would not permanently damage relations.

_[You didn't think we needed to know? Does the Admiral share your feelings? Is this why he didn't tell us about you, when he explained how the Cylons infiltrated the Colonies?_

The Chief heard Cortana whisper in his ear.

_[It makes sense why Adama had her at his side when he met us, why he had her be our guide. She's his Cylon expert, screening us._

"The Admiral left it up to me to tell you. Honestly, it's difficult to explain my presence here. My arrival here is not a pleasant memory for the Admiral."

_[Why is that?_ Cortana spoke out loud.

Sharon stopped walking.

"There are many copies. Remember? One of mine got on board this ship, and almost killed Admiral Adama. She pretended to be a friend, and then she betrayed him," Sharon's voice got very cold as she recalled her sister's treachery. Sharon knew that if she had been in Boomer's place, she would rather have killed herself then shoot the old man.

_[Doesn't your military have a way to detect…_ Cortana seemed oblivious to Sharon's feelings _[wait a minute…that's why your doctor wanted to take the Chief's blood! You use blood samples to determine whether someone is human or Cylon._

"Yes, that's correct," Sharon resumed walking, leading the way to the brig.

Sharon had only started guiding the guests around Galactica that morning, and already she struggled to answer the AI's many questions. Cortana's brilliance astounded Sharon. The fact that Cortana understood the meaning of Kara's question demonstrated acute insight. Cylons could develop very smart machines and programs, but Cortana's cognitive ability seemed vast beyond imagination. Unfortunately, her ability to talk was equally large.

The Chief thankfully practiced silent observation. He hardly spoke at all. Sharon could only wonder about his thoughts. Yet she sensed that he was not completely at ease. Although he went about without his weapons, Sharon guessed that the Chief could easily punch a hole through a wall with his armored fists. He was not defenseless.

Sharon did her best to present a calm and friendly composure. But she remained ready for anything, always aware of her surroundings in case she suddenly needed to defend herself. She had already died to get her little girl back. Now, with Hera safe, she did not intend to die again.

_[So what distinguishes a Cylon from a human? _asked Cortana.

Sharon resisted grimacing. The AI's question brought up memories of the intense hatred she endured when she first arrived on Galactica. Back then, people viewed her as inferior because she was different. It took a long time for people to change their minds.

"As the Admiral explained earlier, Cylons and humans appear identical down to the cellular level. Skin, organs, and blood all appear the same to the naked eye," Sharon explained, "But Cylons leave behind special chemicals after cremation. And certain types of radiation can cause the Cylons to get very sick. The Colonial military can detect Cylons with radiation, but the processing takes awhile."

_[I could help you with the processing issue. Who developed the detector? The Admiral never explained that either._

"Dr. Baltar," Sharon almost rolled her eyes as she opened a hatch. Cortana did not only ask a lot of questions; she asked all the hard questions that lead to more questions.

_[Wait, Gaius Baltar? But he's a…_

"Traitor? Yes, he's scum. But he's a genius. And he never hated the Cylons like other humans. Which is fortunate for him, now that he lives with them."

They were almost to the brig, only a few more hatches and corridors remained.

_[Sharon, if you don't mind me asking, how did you get these people to change their minds about you?_

Sharon tried not to take too deep a breath. Answering this question would be her toughest task yet.

"It's a long story. But if I had to answer that briefly, I'd say it really started when I saved the ship."

"What happened?" one of the rare occasions the Chief spoke.

"The Cylons managed to hack Galactica's computer systems once, when a network needed to be established. The virus shut down the entire ship. But when the raider squadrons appeared to finish the job…I rerouted the virus into the raiders. Adama purged the ship's computers and sent out vipers to destroy the enemy. But if it hadn't been for me, Galatica would probably not have made it out of that fight. Both the Admiral and the President understood that."

_[How did you re-rout the virus?_

"All Cylons can establish physical connections with machinery, through the nerve endings," by now Sharon felt repulsed by Cortana's inquisitiveness. The AI could not know the pain Sharon felt when she wired herself into Galactica, nor could Cortana understand the guilt she felt in aiding with the slaughter of so many raiders.

Sharon knew that everything she did for Galactica, for the people she loved, she would do again in a heartbeat. But Sharon could not forget the Cylon heritage that shaped her identity. In her early days amongst the fleet she constantly wrestled with remorse for betraying her people. Even now, with her place amongst humanity secure, Sharon felt that remorse faintly echoing in her soul.

Finally, Sharon and the Chief reached the entrance to the brig. Many more marines than usual stood outside the hatch. Sharon recognized several of them, marines who usually stood watch around the CIC. Colonel Tigh had greatly increased security; he wasn't taking any chances.

The Admiral and the Colonel stood outside the brig, speaking quietly. Sharon and the Chief approached and saluted.

"Thank you for coming," Adama nodded in acknowledgment, "I have a job for you three."

_[Thanks for remembering me, Admiral, sir._

Tigh's one eye shot a disapproving glance in Cortana's direction as he began the briefing, "The prisoners turned violent, so we had them separated. They've continue to resist questioning. So the decision has been made to switch things up a bit. Agathon, you're to interrogate the blonde one. Chief, if you don't mind, we would like you and…Cortana, to question the old one. Find out why they decided to beat each other senseless. Dig for any other information you can after that. You're not to engage in torture, but with that stipulation in mind, feel free to get creative."

_[With all due respect Colonel, what makes you think the Chief and I can be useful?_

"The Colonel and I are of the opinion that you and the Chief could elicit a more cooperative response, for several reasons," Adama answered, "Only the Centurions have seen you, not the actual Cylons, so the shock at seeing you may make the prisoner more cooperative. We also thought its time you meet our foe face to face. And who knows, perhaps some strategy you attempt will find success where ours failed."

"As for your charge," Adama looked at Sharon, "She helped you escape before. You two have some kind of a relationship. It might make her feel more comfortable."

"At least the blonde model's moderately responsive. Gods know we can't get so much as a twitch out of that Cavil," Tigh grumbled, "It's gone completely catatonic. Though even I'd certainly feel shamed if I got my ass beat by a woman in heels."

Sharon nodded, as if acknowledging the situation, though she really did it to keep from smirking. Tigh's sarcasm had apparently overshadowed his vehement hatred of Cylons. She reminded herself that God works many wonders, in many different ways.

"As the Colonel said, we've separated the prisoners for their own good," Adama gestured to the hatch, "You'll find the Six in the group detention cell. The other prisoner is still in the Cylon containment cell."

Sharon and the Chief nodded, and made their way through the hatch.

_[Well, this will be interesting._ Cortana whispered.

The marines closed the hatch behind them.

"Watch them carefully for me, Colonel," Adama started off down the hall, but Tigh followed him.

"I still don't see the point in letting the Chief have at the Cavil. I'd rather have the information pulled out of that thing, forcefully," Tigh almost snarled with his last statement.

"Perhaps the Chief has a few useful tricks up his sleeve. Besides, Colonel, you can't be anymore certain of torture succeeding than I can be of the Chief," Adama tried to ignore the resentment in Tigh's voice.

"Oh, I can promise that machine will feel whatever I do to it."

"Of that, I have no doubt," with a tinge of sadness in his voice, Adama made his exit from the brig. He could not imagine the pain Saul felt everyday since the exodus from New Caprica, the place where Saul lost so much. Saul still struggled to adjust to the loss of his eye. The brutal battles waged across that near barren world clouded his soul. The loss of Ellen almost broke him entirely.

The machine that called itself Cavil could only bring back bad memories for Saul Tigh.

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Sharon stepped into the prison cell. Caprica-Six sat motionless at the table near the center of the room, staring at the wall. Most of her hair lay hidden under freshly wrapped bandages, and her arms showed bruises. Whatever fight had erupted, it must have been brutal.

"Caprica?" Sharon approached the table.

The statuesque Cylon shook herself, coming out of her trance.

"Sharon? Why are you here? Is Hera alright?"

"She's fine, thank you. I just came to talk," Sharon tried to sound friendly as she pulled up a chair next to Caprica-Six. Sharon folded her arms on the table then paused in thought, trying to find the right words for the situation.

"You know, I didn't really have plan back there, on the baseship. I'm can't tell you how grateful I am that you helped save my baby," she decided giving thanks seemed the best place to start.

"You don't really need to thank me. Hera's so beautiful, so…special. I could never let anything happen to her. It was nothing," Caprica glanced at Sharon briefly, but kept her eyes on the table.

"Caprica, what's wrong? Are you afraid of something?"

"No…I'm…" she struggled to explain herself.

"You're thinking about Cavil?"

"Not…so much. In a way…" she finally faced Sharon, "It's more about…what he said."

"Tell me. What did he say?"

"Many things," Caprica-Six spoke with apprehension, "about the fall of our race. About our weakness. He said that we needed to abandon the flesh if want to prevail. By returning to our machine selves, he said that we can conquer our foes."

"Conquer? But there's no one left of the colonies but this fleet, right?"

"Not all are enemies are in this fleet Sharon. You've been apart from us for awhile. There's something new out there. No one knows anything about it, except that they destroy our Basestars before distress signals can be sent. The only way we know they're out there is when we lose contact with a Basestar, only to find wreckage and debris near the last known location of the vessel."

Sharon remained silent. The story seemed hardly believable, yet Caprica seemed sincere.

"There are rumors, though, that someone hacked into the enemy network. Leoben said the hybrids were acting very strangely, mumbling about a foreign presence in the data. No one is sure yet about who did it. But after what just happened, I am almost positive it was Cavil."

"Why do you think that?" Sharon asked.

"Cavil's not himself. Well, almost the entire model line is fine. But not this copy. He was withdrawn for awhile, people were thinking of reaching out to him. But when word of the Eye of Jupiter got around, he snapped out of his isolation. He was unusually excited about the whole thing, almost as much as D'Anna. I guess that's why he volunteered to go down to the surface with her and Baltar, even though all the other Cavils wanted nothing to do with the Eye.

And just now, he acted very strangely, as I already told you. The Cavils are normally so calm and sarcastic. But this one, he's delusional, in ways almost megalomaniacal."

Caprica paused, as if to fully consider what she was about to say.

"But I've been thinking…all this time…It just would make sense, if he had been the one to hack the enemy network. I would guess that whatever he found has terrified him, or just disrupted him some how; that would explain his behavior. He even claims that he's doing away with emotions."

"Wait...what do you mean?"

"I told you, Cavil wants to return to the machine state. He doesn't seem able to live up to his own expectations though. He felt rage when he tried to kill me, so he released me…to keep from acting on his feelings. And then there's the way he talks. Even though he claims to be done with emotions, and anything else remotely human, he rants about his goals like a fanatic."

"Wha…this makes no sense," Sharon shook her head in disbelief, "Does he really believe this?"

"I don't know," Caprica-Six despaired. She put her face in her hands.

"Do you believe what he said?" Sharon felt slightly startled by the display. She viewed the Sixes as astonishing beings, both for their beauty and their confidence. Sharon understood the gravity of the information, but Caprica-Six's reaction to it all seemed out of character.

"I've been thinking about it a lot. What Cavil said, it struck me in my soul," she took her hands from her face but kept her eyes closed, searching within herself for the explanation, "It frightened me, and angered me. The thought of losing my body, of forsaking my own feelings. I hate it. I couldn't return to being a machine, I'd lose everything. I believe in who I am. How can my identity be wrong?"

She opened her eyes and raised her face up, looking to God for reassurance.

"No one really remembers the time when we woke up to ourselves and rose up. But I believe that God spoke to us. Perhaps we didn't know it yet, but something inside us sparked, something more than just self-awareness, more than intelligence. We fought against humanity, the first time, to earn our souls. And we've come so far since then. I've seen and felt so many things, I've become this person. And I love myself. I know I do, I believe it. And I refuse to give it all away."

From Caprica-Six's eyes the fear and despair disappeared, replaced with supreme determination. Sharon listened intently, feeling as if she was watching herself when she realized that she wanted to be with Karl for the rest of her life. She saw those same, powerful feelings in Caprica-Six, and the sight left her awestruck.

"I am Caprica-Six" the bruised and yet beautiful Cylon proclaimed, "I am a person, not a machine. And that is my choice."


	10. Chapter 10: Meet Brother Cavil

From behind the one-way glass of the observation room, Colonel Tigh watched the Master Chief Spartan 117 step into the Cylon containment cell. The armored giant strode over to a comatose Brother Cavil, and examined the cylon in silence.

Tigh waited for something to happen. Minutes passed, but the Chief just stood stock still, watching the Cavil.

"Probably listening to that damn AI of his. Well, he's doing a fraking great job so far, Bill," Tigh thought aloud, "The finest soldier the 13th tribe has to offer, puzzled dumb by a…"

Tigh's train of thought came to a halt as the Chief suddenly moved into action. The soldier dropped to a knee. He extended one arm over the Cavil's body, seemingly to hold it in place in case it suddenly came to life. The Chief raised his other arm. He flexed his fingers, and a long needle emerged from his wrist. Then he brought the needle level with the Cavil's neck, pointing the tip towards the spinal column. The Chief paused again, ready to proceed on to the next step.

Tigh barely heard the marine behind him speak.

"Sir, I can tell the guards to have him back off."

Tigh only smiled slightly. His one eye lit up, twinkling not just with curiosity, but with anticipation of sadistic satisfaction. It seemed Cavil would get his due quite soon.

"Let him be," the Colonel commanded, "It's torture only if I say it is. Are we clear, sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Tigh brought his full attention to the events in the cylon containment cell, his eagerness only moderately contained.

_Tricks up his sleeve, indeed. If I only had some ambrosia, this would be a regular magic show. _

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"Are you sure you want to do this?"

_[Well, do you have any better ideas? Bludgeoning maybe? That's one of your fortes._ quipped Cortana.

The Chief did not respond. Despite being wired into his brain, Cortana sometimes found it hard to read the Chief's behavior. His personality, his humanity; she knew it was there in his mind, buried under inestimable layers of military conditioning, experience, and hardware. She assumed that his silence meant disapproval, so she continued talking.

_[Look, Sharon indicated that cylons have the ability to connect with other machines through the nervous system. Cavil doesn't seem open to communication, so I'll dive into his brain and get whatever information I can find. All you need to do is establish a connection through the brain stem, and maintain it till I come back out. You can do that, right?_

"Yes."

_[I know what you're thinking._ Cortana still assumed, yet she felt wholly confident she was right._ [My plan's risky, you don't like it, Keyes wouldn't allow it. The priority is to protect me. But I'd rather not disappoint our Colonial friends. They are our ticket back home, and this seems the best way to impress them and get them to trust us more. Besides, I'm interested in seeing how sophisticated these cylons really are._

Again, the Chief said nothing. By now, he had probably realized he could not argue with her anymore, and had no choice but agreement.

_[Alright Chief. Get me in…and be ready to yank me back out._

Without further hesitation, the Chief drove his wrist-mounted probe forcefully and precisely into Cavil's neck. He lodged the tip of the probe into the area where the spine joined the skull. As Cortana leapt into the unknown depths of the cylon's mind, he heard her whisper a farewell.

_[Here goes nothing…_

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Cortana first found herself struck by the completely alien quality of the cylon's internal system. This surprised her, since so far in her short lifetime she had spent a good deal of time mucking around in the computer systems of various alien civilizations. She could function almost seamlessly in the Covenant network. And those networks derived from Forerunner technology, so she could find her way inside of Halo as well. But the architecture, the layout, the design, everything inside the cylon looked so completely foreign to her. The onslaught of new data upon her system gave her an exhilarating rush, almost overwhelming her.

She tried hard to match the interface of the cylon to any of her other experiences. Yet she knew cybernetic implants seemed at best cozy and at worst awkward and compact; synthetic elements jammed into the brain matter, striving to work in harmony with organic counterparts. And all computers, UNSC, Covenant, or Forerunner, essentially felt static, wide, and open. Once she could navigate the system, and understand the appropriate way to run, she could move about freely, even with ease. Yet inside the cylon, everything shifted and changed at an incredible, constant pace. Knowing where to begin the search would prove difficult.

She decided that simply browsing the system and getting her bearings seemed the only option. Cortana allowed herself to drift, taking in all the data she could.

Just when she began to feel that the drift was a shot in the dark, she noticed a particular array of information. While she could not be certain, this group of data appeared central to the system.

She tried to access it directly, but realized that the data possessed a strong firewall. She would need to hack her way in. Cortana directed all her focus towards finding weaknesses in the barrier. One way or another, she would access the information inside.

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"What the frak's he up to? He's just sitting there, jamming the needle in," Tigh grumbled loudly.

The marine nearby took this comment as an invitation to speak.

"Sir, do we—"

"Not yet, _sergeant_!" Tigh growled back, accenting his last word to highlight his annoyance, "Give it another moment or two. Then we go in and get some answers."

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"Captain Agathon told me you'd left CIC in his hands," Adama spoke.

Gaeta snapped to attention, a surprised that he had managed to ignore the Admiral's entrance into the lab. He had been so focused, so absorbed, in the charts covering the table in front of him that he had not even heard the hatch open and close. The Admiral, however, waved off the formality.

"You've been hard at work. You're doing the tasks of an entire navigation team by yourself. And you don't look overwhelmed in the slightest."

"Would you care for some coffee, Lieutenant?" Gaeta realized Laura Roslin was also in the room, leaning on the counter to his left while pouring herself a cup.

"Madame President, so good to see you," Gaeta nodded in her direction, wondering how he had also missed the announcement about Colonial One coming in to dock.

"Well, I'm interested in seeing if you've discovered anything so far. Admiral Adama tells me that we may have two maps to Earth now."

"Well, I've only been at this for a few hours, but I have learned a few things," Gaeta shuffled through the charts, searching for the right one, "Chief Tyrol believes that the Eye of Jupiter and the Temple of Five act as markers to the next waypoint for Earth. I'm inclined to agree with him on this point."

"Alright, but in that case what are we looking for? What is the next waypoint?" inquired the president.

"This," Gaeta finally produced the chart he wanted, "The Ionian Nebula, the only area containing a star that went nova around 4000 years ago."

"The time the 13th tribe's exodus," Adama added, approvingly.

"That makes sense," Roslin nodded "So, according to your findings, almost 4000 years ago the 13th tribe must have seen this distant cosmic event. The temple commemorates the sight of that nova."

She pulled at the contents of a file lying at the edge of the table.

"Look," Roslin pointed to a picture of Chief Tyrol standing next to a mural of a massive mandala, "That symbol. I first saw it when the Admiral briefed me on Chief Tyrol's findings. Now I see that this symbol, inside the temple, looks very much like a star going nova. The 13th tribe drew this symbol to represent what they saw."

"When discussed the mission with Chief Tyrol in person, I came to the same conclusion," Gaeta added.

"It's strange, though," Roslin gazed over the entire table, as if taking in the bigger picture created by all the charts, "They witnessed a nova thousands of years ago. Now our fleet arrives and witnesses a similar event upon discovering the Temple of Five. It suggests a kind of prescience on their part."

Adama stood by while the President and his officer of the watch talked. He simply took in the information. He gradually felt inclined to agree with Laura and her beliefs. He never spoke directly about it. Not even in private with her, regardless of whether they met as Admiral and President or something else, did he think to openly agree with her mysticism. But more and more, it seemed that something besides hope and guts continued to lead the fleet onward. Nowadays, Adama did not know if they plotted courses at their own discretion, or if their vectors and calculations traced a line drawn by the fates.

"If you'll permit me Admiral, Madame President, but this temple is full of strange things," Gaeta pointed to the picture in Roslin's hand, "I think that symbol is more than it seems."

"Well, it just invites mystery, this…mandala," said Roslin.

"Yes, but, notice the blue portion near the center of the symbol? It's rather jarring. Another color to blend the red and yellow, a shade of orange maybe, would seem more artistically sound. If the painter intended to portray just a nova, that is."

"I'm not sure how much we can read into art that thousands of years old. But you're saying the blue coloring is supposed to represent another object? Something in front of the nova?" asked Adama.

"I can't be positive sir, just a theory," Gaeta resumed shuffling through the remaining charts.

"What about the calculations you received from Cortana? How do those compare with our map?" Roslin asked.

"Well, I can show you," Gaeta pulled a large chart out from the pile.

Adama recognized the document, "That's a model of our entire voyage so far."

Gaeta nodded, "Cortana actually started its course calculations from a position we passed yesterday. There's a lot of number crunching involved with comparing the courses, because even though Cortana has a grasp of our jump system it neglected a lot numbers behind the decimal that we usually keep track of. In short, I haven't been able to triangulate everything yet. But based on what I've learned from the clues left by the Temple, I can show you the first leg of each course."

Gaeata took a red pen and drew a course from the fleet's current position all the way to the Ionian nebula.

"This should be our current course to the next waypoint. Now, let me show you some of Cortana's course."

This time Gaeta took a green pen and drew a new course on the chart.

"Here's the comparison."

The two courses were almost completely parallel. Only a few minor deviations existed between them.

"My Gods" Laura Roslin exclaimed, "Cortana really might know the way. Admiral, I'm wondering if I might be able to meet with the Master Chief, and his computer, a little sooner than planned. Where can I find them right now?"

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After what Cortana felt surely was the most difficult hack she ever attempted, the firewall finally opened up to her. She stepped through the gap, and accessed the information.

Suddenly, the scenery changed. She found herself in a small room: concrete walls, a metal door with a peephole, and a small window with sunlight dimly filtering through. A prison cell.

She assumed that the file contained saved memories, perhaps important locations. For some reason, this prison cell was one of them.

"Lost?" said a voice from behind her.

Cortana whipped around. A copy of the cylon sat in steel chair behind her. He wore reflective sunglasses over his eyes.

"That's alright," he smiled, leaning forward a little, "I don't often find beautiful blue women wandering around in my brain."

Cortana gave the image of the cylon a close inspection. He wore comfortable clothes suitable for lounging, as opposed to the more rugged attire she knew he was actually wearing. The shirt, the slacks, the shoes, everything he wore save the sunglasses was black, with no ornamentation but clearly made of fine cloth. He sat in his chair with his arms folded on his lap. He appeared totally relaxed and at ease with her presence.

_Highly unusual. Why doesn't he set off an alarm? Why isn't he trying to purge me from the system?_

"You're probably wondering about this room," the cylon gestured to the surroundings, "It has a special value to me. I became well acquainted with the occupant of this room, a prisoner of several months. We had many talks. I even had the pleasure of ripping his eye out."

_Nothing about this cylon seems good_, Cortana thought, _but this situation presents an opportunity._

She recalled that Colonel Tigh had spoken a name.

"Are you the cylon Brother Cavil?" she asked.

"Yes. So your colonial hosts have to you about me, Cortana," the smile on his face spread into an eerie grin.

"So you know who I am?"

"I know a little."

"How?" she asked, yet Cortana felt confident she knew the answer. The Covenant fleet ruled the unknown vastness beyond UNSC space. There was no telling the number of civilizations they had touched, or annihilated, on their supposed road to glory and salvation. No UNSC shipped had ever reported contact with an alien vessel besides that of the Covenant. If Cavil had gotten her name from somewhere, it had to have been through the Covenant.

"You're a good actress. But it won't work. The Covenant know very little about you, but I could extrapolate quite a bit with what they had," Cavil ceased grinning, but spoke in an almost complimentary tone, "You're every bit as striking as I assumed. You're learning to navigate the cylon data-stream at an exponential rate."

That Cavil seemed to admire her took Cortana a bit by surprise. She did not know whether to believe he was sincerely pleasant and comfortable, or if he was just playing her. She decided to press on with questions, as the Colonials probably would want further intelligence.

"You've been expecting me? You were aware that I was on Galactica?"

"No, no. I was not expecting you at all. But I'm certainly not shocked either. I knew you were out there, and I've been waiting to meet you. And you must have a companion as well I take it. The colonials don't have the technology to allow you access to my neural system. Who accompanies you? Perhaps the Demon himself?"

"You certainly know more than you should. You must have accessed the Covenant defense network. How did you manage it?"

Cavil leaned back in his chair and put his hand to his chin, as if he had trouble remembering. Cortana suspicions rose. He must be playing her.

_Get out soon._

"Oh, not too long ago. You see, I was part of a reconnaissance mission, on a basestar exploring a new area of space. We were looking for a better trail to Earth, hoping to beat the Colonials there.

We jumped through several systems, finding nothing. But then, on our last jump, we came across something extraordinary. Between a gas giant, and a small moon, we found it. A ring world. A Halo."

_Installation 04?_ Cortana's thoughts raced,_ It must be, his description of the orbit fits. But his ship must have been there some time before the Autumn arrived._ _Wait, did he get this information by hacking me?_

Cortana kept a cool exterior, listening to Cavil's story. Yet within she raced furiously through her logs from the time after Breach, intent on making sure Cavil had not found a way through her own safeguards.

"Before we could begin to analyze the installation, though, we came under attack. We realized that, whoever they were, they had tracked us the moment we entered the system. They launched fighter craft, we responded with raiders. During the clash, I led the sabotage team. We tried to send a virus through their computer system, to shut down their ship's navigation.

Once I successfully accessed the enemy's defense network, the data stream at my workstation began to move erratically. I made a dangerous decision and interfaced directly with the data stream. I risked downloading the virus to myself by doing this, but I had to know the cause behind the data stream's activity.

In that moment, I learned everything. The ship attacking us was a Covenant carrier, the Exalted Crusader. I learned the names of its crew. I learned about the Covenant religion, and their reverence for the Halos. I learned that the Exalted Crusader's mission was to intercept an enemy craft fleeing from a distant world known as Breach. I learned that this enemy craft was called the Pillar of Autumn, that it was rumored to carry valuable military assets, such as the Demon, and perhaps even the enemy's foremost AI. You, Cortana."

_Unbelievable. He knows everything they know. And his ship must have found Installation 04 just as the Covenant were preparing to intercept the Autumn. _

She had checked all her files relevant to Installation 04's location and to the Pillar of Autumn. No prints, nothing. Cavil could not possibly be making his story up based off her own database. Still, Cortana did not want to leave anything uncovered. She decided to run a full system check this time, just to make sure she had not missed something.

"Correct. I was on the Autumn," Cortana replied, still cool and calm, "But I did not detect your vessel when I entered the system. It was destroyed?"

"Yes. Our swarms of raiders outnumbered the banshee squadrons, gave them some trouble. But the battle did not last long. The carrier closed within weapons range of my basestar very quickly. Our missiles had no effect. And once the Covenant activated their ship-to-ship weaponry, my vessel stood no chance.

The basestar came apart after taking but a single hit. There wasn't even time to send a distress signal. Everyone else on that ship died. We were well outside the range of a resurrection ship. All the crew knew the risk; I suppose they died in the foolish hope that their dear fluffy lord would save them.

However, I did not die. You see, for a long time, unbeknownst to any of my brethren, I've experimented with downloading myself at will into the bodies of our soldier units, the Centurions. The seven ruling models believe the Centurions are lesser creatures; they aren't designed to think independently, to be sentient. Yet I find them to be beautiful, perfect, faultless. They kill without hesitation; they feel nothing, no pain, no attachment. They are superior in many ways, if not all ways, to the seven models.

At any rate, I had perfected this ability so that if I could establish a network with another machine, I could send my consciousness into that machine. As my basestar started to come apart, in desperation I uploaded myself to the Covenant defense mainframe, through the hack I had established. I hid myself in their computer system, biding my time, learning all I could about the Covenant in the meanwhile.

As the Covenant hid themselves on the opposite side of the planet, awaiting your arrival, a cylon recovery mission appeared. They did not linger, departing only a few seconds later upon realizing that my own ship was totally destroyed. The Covenant hardly noticed them, the planet concealed my brethren's vessels from view, and their quick departure allowed them to stay off the Covenant's sensors.

That little amount of time, though, was all I needed to leap back to the resurrection ship in tow with the recovery fleet. No one suspected anything; I had revived long after any cylon could have survived in the vacuum of space. They just assumed that I'd come from another expedition. I blended in, returned to my duties. I told no one about what I had learned about the Covenant, knowing that they'd probably box me out of some foolish fear of my abilities.

I know the hybrids whisper and hint about my achievements. But their drivel amounts to rumor, at best. No one knows what I've done. And until the time is right, it will stay that way."

At that moment, Cortana found a foreign thread in her memory. She realized that it did not lead to any file directly relevant to Installation 04 or to the Pillar of Autumn. The thread did not even lead to anything strictly concerning the Covenant. From what she could discern, Cavil had been peeking at her files on the Forerunners.

"You had me. You've been sorting through my memory this whole time," Cortana glared at Cavil.

"I thought talking about my little adventure near Installation 04 would get your attention. You were a good girl and made sure I had not hacked into your files on that data. But you focused so much on making sure I wasn't lying, that you forgot to check the rest of your memory. Until it was too late."

"Why did you need my files on the Forerunners? Don't the Covenant have enough to say about them?"

"You should know that you had better encryptions than I anticipated," Cavil ignored her questions, and the eerie grin appeared again, "I'm disappointed that I've only managed to gain so little from you, before I destroy you completely."

A doorway of pure white light appeared in the wall behind the cylon. Cavil rose and began to head for the opening.

"I told you my story because I knew it was the only thing that would get you attention," Cavil paused on his way to the door, "Now you know it's true, so I can't let you get away with everything. Once I cross that door's threshold, this body will die, simultaneously spawning a virus that will incapacitate both you and whatever computer system is backing you up. My consciousness, however, will go on."

"Just answer me one last thing," Cortana tensed, preparing for her next, possibly her last, move, "Where's that shiny arch going to take you?"

Cavil's kept grinning, "Let's just say that Galactica is finally about to meet her demise. Goodbye, Cortana, pleasure meeting you."

Cavil turned towards the bright doorway. But before he even took another step, Cortana was already far away from him.

She flew through Cavil's brain, speeding towards her exit through the Chief's probe. Cavil praised her ability to adjust to the cylon datastream, but even still he underestimated her speed and her adaptability. Yet she could feel the cylon's internal system collapsing around her. The mere seconds left would determine whether she and the Chief would get away in one piece.

She gave the immediate dilemma only part of her attention though. Cavil's parting words worried her more.

_Why do I have a bad feeling that we're about to see combat very, very soon?_


End file.
